


The Pilot & the Flight Attendant

by vivilove



Series: Career Day Romance [19]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Implied past abusive relationship, Jon Snow and Sansa Stark Are Not Related, Jon is a flight attendant, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Sansa is a pilot, Workplace Relationship, but also a pilot, challenging sexism and gender expectations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27028744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Sansa and Jon meet in a waiting room at Direwolf Air while awaiting their upcoming job interviews. The attraction between them is instant but they’re both busy thinking they’re sizing up their competition. Guess it’s a good thing they’re not applying for the same position.A new Career Day Romance where Sansa and Jon challenge sexism and gender role expectations while falling in love up in the sky.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Career Day Romance [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/696723
Comments: 264
Kudos: 323
Collections: Fave_Fanfics_Rereads





	1. Assumptions & New Acquaintances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SainTalia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SainTalia/gifts).



> I know I don't need another WIP but here's one anyway 😅. 
> 
> This is gifted to SainTalia who gave me the idea for this when we were discussing Sansa as the Winged Wolf from canon and it spiraled into a discussion of a Pilot!Sansa fic with a swap of traditional gender roles so that Jon would be a Flight Attendant. I know very little about airline jobs, etc. so please excuse inaccuracies. I'm just writing another story of these two dorks falling in love and banging, m'kay?

* * *

At ten minutes until three, Sansa Stark decided it was close enough to time to be early but not too early. She drew a deep breath, tipped her chin up and strode through the glass doors into Direwolf Air’s main office.

A division of the much larger Manderly Airlines, the smaller carrier maintained its own fleet of aircraft, all bearing their well-known Winged Wolf logo, to ferry passengers to and fro across the North.

And what was the very first image to meet her eyes as they adjusted from the brightness outdoors to the interior?

A picture of her grandfather shaking hands with Wyman Manderly after the sale of Direwolf Air eight years ago.

The one beside it?

A much older photo of her grandmother holding a bottle of champagne preparing to christen a new jetliner with her grandfather beaming in the background…and Sansa’s father at the age of five sat on his shoulders. It had been Lyarra Stark who had doodled a wolf with wings on a lark that would someday become the public's icon for the company.

There were more than a dozen photos on the wall of Direwolf Air’s planes, employees and various family members from when it had belonged to the Starks. The Manderlys liked to respect the roots of the airline her father had said and she was seeing evidence of it now.

Her great-grandfather and grandfather had founded it. Her father had worked for the airline for several years in various jobs, first as a baggage handler before winding up in the business offices, until he’d decided to pursue another career path.

Her parents had actually met on the job when Catelyn Tully had taken a flight attendant position for a time and her father had been working with the ground crew. He’d always joked that he’d known his wife must’ve been his angel sent from high above the moment he’d clapped eyes on her for the first time descending the air stairs after a flight. (Yes, it was little lame the way he said it. Yes, Sansa thought it was terribly romantic, too.)

Her Uncle Benjen had flown for Direwolf before deciding to buy his own small charter plane for sightseeing tours and vacations get-aways in the far North. 

Her brother Robb had interned with Manderly in the business officers briefly during his college days after their grandfather had let the bigger airline buy him out and retired.

And here she was today.

 _Gods_.

She wanted this job. She wanted to fly. And she wanted to remain in the North. Manderly’s flagship Trident Air flew all over the globe these days but Direwolf Air remained a regional carrier. It was perfect for her. She just didn’t want anyone to think strings were pulled or favors called in for her to get it.

_Well, you don’t have it yet…but you can do this._

“May I help you?” a receptionist asked, drawing Sansa from her little self-pep-talk.

“Good afternoon. I’ve got an interview with Ms. Manderly at three.”

She glanced down at her calendar. “Name?”

“Sansa Stark.”

The woman nodded…and then blinked…and then tilted her head up from her desk to look at her. She looked back over her shoulder at the array of pictures on the wall. She turned back around with a smirk and Sansa drew another deep breath.

_You can do this. They’ll see._

_And must you smirk like that thinking ‘nepotism’ when both of your boss’s granddaughters work here? I’ve never even met Mr. Manderly._

She’d warned her father and grandfather not to say a word about her applying, claiming she’d go work for United Dragons, an archrival from back in the day, if they did. They’d promised they wouldn’t.

“Are you supposed to see Wynafryd instead of Wylla maybe?” the woman asked with a slight frown next.

“No, my appointment is with Wylla Manderly.”

“She’s interviewing applicants for the pilot position, you know?”

“Yes, I know and that’s who I’m seeing because that’s what I am,” Sansa replied, firmly.

"Oh right...of course, Ms. Stark."

She hadn’t always dreamt of being a pilot. She’d never expected to fly an airplane at all in fact. But after she’d left the south and a bad relationship behind her for good, Sansa had been looking for something new.

A well-timed opportunity had come along when she’d been flying to visit her grandparents with her Uncle Benjen. He’d invited her to come sit beside him. Looking out over the control panel to nothing but blue before her, she’d felt a tug, a spark, a sense of boundless freedom, that had been lacking since the darker days with Joffrey and just knew she wanted to experience flying for herself.

Her parents had been surprised to say the least but, despite some parental reservations when it came to a potentially hazardous job, they were supportive of her choice along with her siblings. If Arya hadn’t already been heavily involved in competitive mixed martial arts with a plan to open her own school at some point, she'd said she’d have joined her. But this was all Sansa for now. Her and Benjen were the only two Starks taking to the friendly skies regularly these days.

 _“Carrying on a family tradition, are you, Little Red?”_ her grandfather Rickard had joked when she'd told him about the new career. He'd been happy though. 

_“Something like that, Grandpa.”_

_"I hope you find what you're looking for up there in the big blue, darling."_

_"Thanks."_

Was she looking for something? Yeah, probably. She wasn't sure what precisely beyond the freedom of flying but event coordination had lost its appeal. Having a boyfriend who enjoyed picking her apart over every little thing had made her less resilient to strangers who were ready to do the same if they weren't properly appeased and satisfied every step of the way. She didn’t want to own an airline but she'd be happy flying for one, she thought. The technical side was complicated enough but, ultimately, it was about taking off and landing again in one piece, traveling from point A to B, often with an amazing view. 

Twenty-three months after that first flight with her uncle, she had her commercial pilot’s license and had done some bush piloting with Benjen and then a stint flying a corporate jet for Mockingbird Industries until she’d grown sick of sleazy Mr. Baelish’s come-ons and innuendos. She was not anybody's Sky Bunny nor would she be. 

So, here she was at Direwolf. She knew she might not be the most experienced applicant. All the same, she was going for it. She wanted to fly one of those planes with the Winged Wolf on it. 

_If only they’ll give me the chance._

* * *

Three o’clock on the dot and not a moment to spare, Jon Snow had tried to get here sooner but traffic around White Harbor was heavier than what he’d been used to up at Castle Black and the city was still new to him.

“Are you sure you’re not supposed to be seeing _Wylla_ Manderly instead, Mr. Snow?”

“No, my appointment is with Wynafryd Manderly at three.”

“Right, um…of course,” the lady behind the reception desk said, looking blank for a few beats before she smiled. “This way.”

Jon thanked her, internally counting to twenty to keep his hackles from rising too much at her presumptions and rapidly forming smirk.

_You can do this. Just mind your temper._

Would he like to be applying for the pilot’s position?

Hell yeah, he would.

Jon had flown a variety of aircraft over the past five years while serving with the Nights Watch and knew he could fly any plane in Direwolf’s fleet, probably with one eye open and a hand tied behind his back in favorable conditions.

But he didn’t have a commercial pilot’s license and he couldn’t get one for the time being either and that was thanks to his temper.

_Apparently, throwing your superior officer through a plate glass window is frowned upon in some circles._

Yeah, he’d had good reason or what had _felt_ like a good reason at the time when he’d sent Janos Slynt flying through that window but the Watch under Acting Lord Commander Thorne was always going to call it mutiny and the assault charge had him on probation and the Westerosi Aviation Association wouldn’t grant a commercial pilot’s license to anyone with a pending criminal matter.

But he needed a job and wanted to get his foot in the door with one of the Northern carriers if he could so why not a flight attendant?

_Be a good place to work on that temper of yours._

_Gods, don’t remind me._

No, he was not under the impression that being a flight attendant would be a cake walk. For one thing, his mother had worked as one when she’d been younger and told him plenty. For another, he knew how conservative some Northerners could be and that, while male flight attendants weren’t a new thing, plenty of passengers might react as if they were.

_Doesn’t matter. They’ll see that you are just as capable of seeing to their safety and meeting their comfort needs as a female flight attendant and you’ll be one step closer to pursuing other opportunities here once your probation is up…if you get the job._

“If you’ll just wait here for Ms. Manderly, Mr. Snow. She’s with another applicant, I believe,” the receptionist said, showing him into a waiting room. He nodded as she added, “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

It was only once she’d closed the door that Jon realized he was not alone. A young woman was seated on the other side of the room with her legs crossed and a magazine on her lap. Apparently, he had some competition for the position.

 _I’ll arm wrestle you for it,_ he thought wryly, trying to decide if he should introduce himself that way as a joke.

But then she looked up from the magazine right at him and the joke died a quick death because…holy fuck, she was gorgeous. Red hair, blue eyes in a crisp dark pants suit. She looked like she’d just walked off a commercial shoot for the airline. She’d be ideal to promote it. And she was an applicant, too?

_Fuck me._

Jon glanced down at his own attire. His trousers could’ve used a little more time on the ironing board. He’d worn a dress shirt and tie but gone with his black leather jacket instead of a sport coat. Honestly, he’d not acquired much of a civilian wardrobe since he’d left the Watch. He'd let his hair grow out some since leaving the Watch and had it tied back. His beard was freshly trimmed but he looked like a slob next to her.

_Hell, if she was wearing a potato sack, you’d look like a slob next to her._

No, he didn’t think a person’s looks were the basis for being chosen for the job at all (at least he hoped they as a society were past that) but he was growing increasingly depressed about his chances as he kept shooting glances at the beauty across the room…who he still hadn’t spoken to. _Don’t be a creep, Snow. Say something._

However, she beat him to it. (Just like she’d beat him here and just like she’d probably walk away with a job today and he very well might not.)

“Hi, are you here for an interview, too?” Her voice was sweet but couldn’t hide her nervousness.

That nervousness actually helped give him the shove he needed to speak and not act like a prickly jerk. “Yeah, I’m Jon Snow,” he said, holding out his hand.

She stood, willowy and graceful, and accepted the handshake. “I’m Sansa.” She quickly wiped her hands on her pants after the shake, giving him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I’m nervous and my palms are sweaty.”

“Didn’t notice since mine are, too.”

Also, he’d felt a distinct zing just touching her hand that he was not going to read too much into. _Oh, I might._

She grinned at his reply and… _damn_. Beautiful, personable, well put-together and easy to talk to. _The passengers will love you._

“Guess we’re both left to sweat a bit, huh?”

“Looks like,” she said with a playful grimace.

He tried to match the expression. He probably just looked like a big grump though.

They took a seat again, Jon still rubbing his hands along his trousers, trying to ignore the fading zingy sensation that he wanted back, and Sansa apparently trying to decide if she wanted to pick up her magazine again. After a minute or so of some more shy, uncertain glances, she opened her mouth again instead which was a-okay with Jon.

“I hate waiting like this.”

“Me, too. I mean, job interviews are nerve-wracking enough without the sitting around to think about it.”

“Exactly.” She pointed towards his jacket. “So…Airborne?”

He glanced down. He’d forgotten that his insignia pin was still there. It was just part of the jacket for him at this point. “Yeah, did two years university and didn’t like it so I joined the Watch. Got recruited into their Airborne Division after OTS was done.”

“An officer then?”

“First Lieutenant before, um…before I left.”

No need to get into that just yet. He'd already discussed it with Ms. Manderly over the phone and she'd said it wasn't an automatic strike out for the position. _"As long as you don't toss any passengers out of the windows midflight."_

“Air crew or ground crew?”

“Air. I was a pilot.”

Was. He didn’t like the way that word sounded in his mouth. _‘I am a pilot’_ would sound much better. If only.

“Right, of course. Lot of hours logged in air, I’m sure,” she said, her smile fading somewhat.

“Fair bit. Did a stint flying transports before I attended the Academy’s fighter pilot program and then three years of that before…” _Before I blew my top and blew my career to dust._

Her expression grew even bleaker. Had he said something wrong? “That’s great. It’s a great feeling. Flying, I mean.”

“It is. This will still be flying in a sense though, right? Even without having my hand on the stick at least I could still be in the air…if they hire me.”

“Right. Wait…what?”

A few minutes later, they were both still chuckling together over it. She’d assumed he was applying to be a pilot while he’d assumed she was going to easily knock him out of consideration for the flight attendant job.

“I’m sorry, Sansa. That was sexist as hell of me to immediately think you’d be a flight attendant when I knew they were hiring a pilot, too.”

“No, don’t apologize. I jumped right to the wrong conclusion myself.”

“Yeah, but I’m wearing the insignia pin like a dumbass so I’m not knocking off any points on you while I’m getting 500 points deducted at once.” She giggled. Gods, it was a sweet sound. “Anyway, Mom was right about what happens when you assume, I guess.”

“You make an ass out of U and Me,” she finished for him. “One of my dad’s favorite sayings, too.”

He stuck his hand out again. “I hope you get the job, Sansa.”

Warm and soft, her hand was back in his and so was the zingy feeling. He had to restrain himself from giving a caress with his thumb. “Thanks, Jon. I hope you do, too. I’d enjoy flying with you.”

 _I’d enjoy more than flying with you, I think._ He wasn’t going to say that. He didn’t want to be a creep or make an even bigger fool of himself. And if they were potentially going to be working together, it probably wouldn’t be ideal to ask her out ten minutes after meeting her…even if he might like to.

But, that didn’t mean he couldn’t make a move towards something, did it? White Harbor was pretty lonely for him with just Ghost to come home to and no family or friends around. 

“Hey, I’m going to do something that I hope doesn’t seem weird.”

He reached into his pocket for a pen and tore a little section off on of the nearby magazines. The issue was eight months old so he figured no real harm. He didn’t think he’d ever been in a waiting room with current magazine issues. He scribbled on it as Sansa watched him curiously.

“This is my number and there’s no pressure at all if you’d rather not but, if you get the job, I’d love to know it.”

He felt his cheeks getting hot with embarrassment as he passed her the slip of paper. He hadn’t ever given his number out unasked for and rarely asked for a woman’s number so quickly for that matter but he hoped she’d see it as a friendly gesture as intended.

Her answering smile and acceptance of the slip told him that she did. “I will,” she said, slipping the paper into a pocket just as the door opened and a young woman with green hair entered and called her name.

* * *

Three days later, Sansa’s finger hovered over the send button of the message she’d tapped out.

_Hi-this is Sansa from the other day. I wanted to let you know I got the job and hope you've had good news as well 😊_

She wanted to tell him and figured Jon would be happy for her. But what if he didn’t get the job? Would he really want to hear about her good fortune if he was shot down or still waiting on an answer? That was the only thing holding her back.

_He asked if you would let him know._

He did. He didn’t put any parameters on that beyond telling her no pressure if she didn’t want to. It was open-ended. She could text him or not. It wasn’t the end of the world if she didn’t. If he got hired too, they’d probably be seeing each other around. They could form a working relationship with or without a text message today.

But she really wanted to text him.

And maybe she’d like a little more than a working relationship with Jon Snow at some point.

_What?! No! I wasn’t thinking that at all!_

_Yeah, you were._

Sure, he was handsome. He favored her first serious crush Waymar a bit with his dark eyes and hair. Actually, Jon was even better looking in addition to being closer in age to her. But, once she’d got him to talking, she’d liked him very much. He had a dry wit that would peep out and he was very smart. Not that it meant anything, right?

It’d been over two years since she’d left Joffrey and that whole extremely unpleasant scene behind her. She’d gone out on a few dates since then, even dated one guy for a few months when she’d still been in Winterfell before the move to White Harbor but that hadn’t amounted to anything seriously worth pursuing. There just weren’t any real sparks between them she’d finally realized. No swooping in her belly when he held her hand, no butterflies when he kissed her goodnight. Even when they’d taken the next step, it had been okay as sex went but had felt more like she was proving to herself that she could move on from the past rather than she was truly connecting in an intimate way with Loras. And honestly, it had felt more like Loras was proving something to himself as well.

When the break had come soon after, she’d swear they’d both felt more relief over it than anything. She’d wished him well and set off for White Harbor soon after thinking romance might stay on the back burner for a while as she went to the North's busiest hub to pursue a career in flying. 

But with Jon, there had been something from the moment she set eyes on him. He’d shook her hand and it’d been like…well, real sparks for lack of a better term.

_Holy shit, I sound like Dad._

_Calm down. You’re hardly ready to celebrate your Silver Anniversary together. Just send the stupid text for starters._

She did.

He texted back ten minutes later with congratulations and his own welcome news. He’d got the job as well.

Grinning like the biggest goof at her phone, she replied with congrats and a string of celebratory emojis. And with her heart hammering hard in her chest, she did something else that was outside her usual comfort zone. She asked if he’d want to meet for coffee on Monday morning since they’d both be going through their HR orientation that day.

His affirmative reply elicited a giddy yelp that startled poor Lady from her nap.

“Sorry, girl,” Sansa cooed before glancing at her reflection in the bedroom mirror with her phone still in her hands. When had she grown so flushed?

 _Okay, maybe it_ does _mean something._

* * *

On Monday morning at 7AM, Sansa walked into the agreed upon coffee shop pleased to find Jon already seated at a table, waiting for her in freshly pressed dress shirt and khakis and wearing a smile. She smiled right back and walked towards him, wondering if another handshake would feel too stilted now and knowing that it was far too soon to hug like old acquaintances might.

There was a bubbling sense of tension and nerves. Butterflies, she realized. 

_Okay so what? You're starting a new job today. That's pretty common to be nervous._

_Yeah, but these butterflies feel a little different from those butterflies._

She was starting a new job today but Jon Snow was even better looking than she’d recalled and, while it wasn’t wine and candlelight, there was that _oomph_ , that knowledge that, even if they were destined to be nothing more than coworkers or friends at best, he was a man and she was a woman and they had agreed to meet each other one-on-one after having just met a last week for a brief spell. To put it plainly, it felt like a date. And it'd been a long while since a date had stirred butterflies like this. 

He rose from his seat to greet her, very gentlemanly of him which was appreciated, but he seemed to be just as uncertain how to proceed after an exchange of hellos. He had his hands clasped behind his back, too. A little ice breaker was needed then.

“It’s a pity we can’t spend the whole day here instead of in a dull office space with no windows hearing lectures on customer service and retirement planning, huh?”

It worked. He nodded and started grinning, his eyes crinkling up at the corners in the same way she’d admired when they’d met the other day. _Gods, you're handsome._

“Yeah, poke me if I start snoring, okay?” he joked. 

“Will do but some caffeine is definitely called for since this might put me to sleep a lot faster than a red-eye flight.”

When they resumed their seats, her with her tea after explaining her dislike of coffee and leaving Jon flabbergasted…

_“But I’ve never met a pilot who doesn’t love coffee!”_

_“You have now. Better check those assumptions at the door, Snow.”_

_“Right…you’re right,”_ he’d laughed.

…they settled into a chummy comfort that had her nerves taking a backseat. Oh, they were still there but more muted. Besides, she wanted to get to know more about Jon. And he obliged her.

“So, that’s why you weren’t interviewing for pilot?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, looking a bit broodily into his empty cup. Honestly, a bit of brooding was a good look on him. “I don’t want you to think I’m some violent person, Sansa. I’m not but I figured I’d rather be up front with you in case it got around.”

“I appreciate your candor. I won’t share it with anyone either." 

"Thanks. I'm sure it'll come out at some point but...thanks." 

It was quite an admittance to make to someone he barely knew. She also knew how quick workplace gossip could spread though and obviously Jon did, too. 

"It is surprising. I wouldn’t have guessed it having met you.”

It was surprising and maybe she might’ve been a little frightened if she’d heard from someone else that Jon was on probation for assault but he’d told her flat out, wanting to get it out of the way.

And the thing was, she could already tell he wasn’t like Joffrey. If Jon had a temper, it was not the variety that typically led men to shove their girlfriends around. The reasons he’d lost his temper, the protective instincts that had led to the confrontation with a superior in a very testosterone-infused environment made sense even if the resulting actions had landed him in trouble.

“I shouldn’t have done it. If I could go back and change how I handled things that day, I would. But I don’t feel all that sorry either. Guess I’ve still got some work to do on that.”

“I can’t really blame you. He sounds like a disgusting little toad." 

"Yeah, well..." he grinned.

"A superior coercing enlisted personnel into doing his misdeeds on his behalf, getting them to bully and terrorize any who wouldn't go along, it’s very foul. And the women..." She huffed. Taking advantage of female enlisted personnel, buying drugs, forcing others into doing that for him, she'd say Janos Slynt had earned his trip through a window. "I can see why you grew so angry when you found out. What happened to Major Slynt anyway? Please, don't tell me he's still there.”

“No, he was quietly asked to leave the Watch not long after I got discharged. Other men and women who had served under him and suffered from it started coming forward apparently.”

“But it was too late to save you?”

“I didn’t need saving. I did something wrong and got punished for it,” he said with a shrug.

Another difference from Joffrey there. Nothing was ever Joffrey’s fault. Jon wasn’t wired the same at all.

“You’ll be able to fly again though?”

“I can fly now just not commercially. If I’m a good boy for another fifteen months though, I’ll be able to do that, too.”

“Well, I'll just have to be sure you’re a very good boy, won’t I?” she smirked. An instant later, she was flushing. “I mean…”

He started smirking himself, likely picking up on where her mind had gone. Okay, maybe not _entirely_ where her mind had gone. _You could be my good boy. Or my bad boy. I have a feeling I wouldn’t be too picky when it comes to you._

The conversation wound along over another cup apiece and Sansa decided to share some more of herself. Not Joffrey. That was too personal, too vulnerable, to share with a new acquaintance and she didn't want to think about him today. She shared her worry from the other day though, the worry that might continue to plague her as a newbie pilot with Direwolf.

“Holy shit, you’re one of _those_ Starks?”

“Yes,” she answered, trying not to wince too visibly.

He noticed and gave her a warm, reassuring look. “I think that’s great that you developed an interest in flying when none of your other siblings have.”

“Thanks. I’m sure some people will think I got the job because…”

“Okay, stop right there. I’ve not seen you fly yet but Manderly’s got a great reputation for safety and integrity with only one fatal crash in nearly forty years in the air..." He paused to knock wood and she did the same, neither grinning over their superstitions. No one joked about accidents. "...and that one, while unfortunate, was not caused by pilot error. They wouldn’t have hired you if they didn’t think you could do the job. And, any people who think it’s all due to your last name will just have to learn differently, won’t they?”

“That’s what I tell myself.”

“Was your granddad pleased?”

“Yeah, him and my grandma both were.”

She was flushing again remembering how her grandfather had gotten so enthusiastic over the phone when she’d called to tell him. _“Little Red’s gonna fly for the Winged Wolf, Lyarra! What do you think of that, hun?”_

It felt good to share that information with someone else today and for him to be pleased for her, to believe in her. She was so glad she’d met Jon.

(And maybe romance wasn’t completely out of the question at some point either.)

The next minute, Jon’s phone started vibrating on the table. He gave it a glance and then an apologetic one her way. “Sorry, I kind of hate to ignore this. She’ll keep calling if I don’t answer and I don’t want my pocket buzzing during our orientation even if that might help keep me awake.”

“Sure. Of course,” she said smoothly, sipping the last of her tea and trying to appear unconcerned.

 _Girlfriend?_ _Probably girlfriend._ Jon was too good looking not to have a girlfriend, wasn’t he? _Ugh_.

But it wasn’t a girlfriend.

_Check your own assumptions at the door, Sansa._

“Hey, Mom,” she heard him say quietly into the phone.

A voice of brass replied, _“Hey, baby! I was thinking about you and wanted to call! Are you all set for your first day?!”_

“Yeah, I’m…”

_“Did you try that starch I told you about on your pants to get the wrinkles out?!”_

“Uh, I did. Thanks for the…”

_“I’ll bet you look so handsome! Now, you tied your hair back, right?! I love my baby boy’s curls but you want to keep them out of the way when you’re serving and…”_

Even across the table and through the phone, the voice was loud, almost offensively bright, but also Sansa couldn’t help grinning that Jon’s mom clearly loved him to pieces…and that it _wasn’t_ a girlfriend who had called.

He winced and gave Sansa a playful eyeroll before replying that he had tied his hair back when she asked something else. _“And are you still meeting that pretty pilot for coffee today?!”_

“Um…yeah,” he said, cringing more fully and clearly afraid of how much Sansa could hear and what else his mother was going to say. His face was also going from pale to crimson in quick order. “I’m at the coffee shop now.”

_“Oh! Well, I’ll let you go!”_

“Great. Thanks, Mom. I’ll call you later and…”

_“And I know you’re probably trying to be all professional, baby, but if you like her, you definitely shouldn’t be afraid to ask her…”_

“Bye, Mom!” he yelped, his normally deep voice climbing a whole octave.

Sansa covered her face with both her hands to stifle her laughter as he set his phone back down.

“Um, so that’s the very attentive and charmingly meddlesome Lyanna Snow who only has one child to torment on his first day at a new job. She’s great…at embarrassing me.”

Sansa let her hands drop from in front of her face, taking pity on him. “Oh, I’m not an only child but I assure you my parents have their moments as well.”

“Good to know,” he said, chuckling now that the ordeal was over.

The rest of their morning passed very pleasantly before it was time to head to Direwolf’s offices. She was really glad she’d made the suggestion to meet. Neither one of them had any family or close friends here in White Harbor. It was nice to think that her and Jon might be on their way to becoming friends.

(And did the subject of their relationship status get raised at one point with both of them coming up single? Why, yes. Yes, it did.)

But for now, friends. _Yes, I think we might turn out to be good friends._

She was glad of it.

And, was Sansa going to read something into the fact that Jon Snow had already mentioned meeting her to his mother?

Why, yes. Yes, she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, we’ll skip ahead to them on the job as their friendship builds and starts to evolve.


	2. Turbulence & Twitterpated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did a little more homework (very little, don't grade me) and discovered Sansa would've needed around 2 years to log enough flight time to earn her commercial license (1500 hours here in the states) so I increased the time between her leaving the south and Joffrey last chapter just enough to cover that.

**Nine weeks later**

Sansa rolled over to shut off her alarm at 8 on a Sunday morning, smiling within seconds of waking. Tomorrow morning, she’d be heading out the door around 4AM. By 8, she’d be taking off for the Stony Shore/Sea Dragon Point circuit. 

But today, she was home. She was off and he didn’t have to be at the airport until noon. That meant one thing. The dog park and breakfast. It was his turn to bring the food. She didn’t have to get moving just yet. 

She stretched, trying to dismiss the turbulence in her belly that she was becoming very familiar with when it came to Jon. _Turbulence? You mean like butterflies? That's silly._ _We’re friends_.

Then, she checked her phone to make sure Jon hadn’t texted to cancel because her whole mood would crash and burn if he had to cancel. _I mean, it’s normal to get excited over seeing a friend so…_

She didn’t think he would cancel but he’d mentioned Myranda telling him of possible extra shifts coming up for grabs and he’d said he’d step up to fill in if needed. He was eager to prove himself to the Manderlys and everyone at Direwolf. With his record, getting on with Direwolf was a big deal for Jon and she understood that. She didn’t want anything to stand in his way of making a career with them either, hopefully as a pilot someday. 

Thankfully, there was no text to spoil the morning plans. Just the usual semi-anxious one from her mother.

_Are you flying today?_

That was always the first thing her mother wanted to know. The texts were becoming a daily thing now that Sansa was seeing more time up in the air. She knew her mother admired what she did. She also knew her mother would never stop being her mother and would worry at least a little whenever her daughter was flying whether she was the pilot, co-pilot or a passenger. 

_Not today but tomorrow._

_Ok. Everything good in White Harbor?_

_It is._

_Are those other pilots being nice to you?_

_Of course, Mom._

‘Most of them are’ would’ve been a more honest answer but it was alright and adding extra cares to her mother wasn’t something Sansa did much of.

_How’s Winterfell and everyone?_

_We’re all fine. Are you seeing your friend Jon today?_

It was kind of comical the way her mother always called him ‘your friend Jon’ even in texts. It made Sansa wonder if Lyanna Snow asked her son about ‘his friend Sansa.’

_Yes. We’re meeting at the dog park for breakfast._

_You’re having breakfast together?_

If her mother ever used emojis, which she didn’t, Sansa could picture a pair of eyes following that query.

_Yes, breakfast. Most important meal of the day. He’s got a flight later._

_Alright. If you ever wanted to bring him home for a visit, he’d be welcome here. Your father and I would like to meet him._

_Thanks, maybe sometime but it’s not what you’re thinking, Mom._

_Of course not. I just meant you could bring him as your friend._

Sansa wasn’t fooled. She knew her mother too well. ‘Not yet’ is what that text meant.

But, Catelyn Stark tended to tap-dance a bit when it came to her older daughter’s love life the past two years. Sansa wished she wouldn’t worry so much. One bad relationship wasn’t the death of romance, not for her. Sansa refused to think of it that way. _Of course, Jon is my friend, not my boyfriend so there’s no need to tap-dance at all._

Granted, she had mentioned Jon more than once to her mother already. They talked a lot and it would be weird of her not to mention him to her mother. Her mother had been relieved that she’d made a friend living away from them in a place where she didn’t know anyone else. 

_Your father and I weren’t friends first before he asked me out._

A bit off target but okay. Sometimes, moms tended to wander a bit towards the point, right? _He didn’t wait very long to ask you from what you’ve told me._

_No, he didn’t._

She could imagine her mother chuckling fondly at the memory and it made her smile. She loved the story of how her parents met at the airport, how her father had watched Catelyn Tully in her stewardess uniform disembark from a flight and promptly went right up to her and asked if she'd want to grab some coffee with him. Her father would always add he was on the verge of vomiting the whole time, terrified of her saying no and also hardly believing he could be so bold...and that it actually worked out so amazingly well for him.

_But I’ve always thought how lovely it must be for couples who were friends first to fall in love._

Whoa. Maybe her mother was tired of tap-dancing. Sansa was glad her mother wasn’t here to see the way her questions and statements regarding Friend Jon always made her blush and she wasn’t touching that last text with a ten-foot pole.

_I need to get up now. Love you!_

_I love you, too. Be safe._

She laid her phone aside and got up to shower and dress. 

“Ready to go meet the guys, girl?” Sansa asked Lady a short while later.

Her malamute was already wagging her tail excitedly before Sansa even had the leash in her hand. She giggled at the thwack, thwack, thwack of Lady’s tail as she knelt to attach it to her collar. She would’ve kept giggling as they walked the few blocks to the park…if Lady hadn’t been practically dragging her down the street in her eagerness to see Ghost.

Jon’s own dog, a husky, was an albino and as quiet as his name. He was also clearly as twitterpated with Lady as she was with him. 

_Kind of like I’m twitterpated with his owner._

Twitterpated seemed about right. They had become friends. They were getting closer. She wasn’t in love (not yet) and she wasn’t sure if Jon might feel the same way about her but they might be more than friends at some point. They’d have to see how it went. 

“Yes, there’s your girlfriend but don’t knock me over trying to get to her, for fuck’s sake,” Sansa heard Jon say in that delectably gruff morning voice of his. 

Her cheeks were already pink from the frosty morning but they grew decidedly warm over that voice and him calling Lady Ghost’s girlfriend. She glanced up from the bench where she’d been freeing Lady of her leash to find Jon Snow in jeans and a hoodie, grinning at her. _I could be your girlfriend too maybe_. 

The two dogs were snout to snout as Jon worked to free Ghost, like they were kissing their hellos. Both had been fixed though so their love would remain a very chaste one. Regardless, they were racing off to play in the enclosed space within seconds, leaving their humans behind. 

“You’re getting more adept at that,” she teased, nodding at the way he expertly had a beverage tray and bakery bag balanced in his free hand as the other was tucking Ghost’s leash away. 

“Use makes master, they say, and at least no turbulence will cause a spill here…just man’s best friend.” He’d told her the story of his first flight two weeks ago after he’d finished his training and the unfortunate bit of turbulence that had hit at just the wrong time. 

“What’d you bring me?”

“Ginger tea and the last lemon blueberry scone. Had to fight an old guy for it.”

“Oh, you’re the best! Thank you! But you’d better not be fighting with anyone over me.”

“I’m won’t,” he said with an adorably sheepish grin. “I mean, I would for you but, uh…not over a scone.” He rubbed the back of his neck in an embarrassed fashion as Sansa buried her face in the bag to retrieve her breakfast and keep from emitting a giddy shriek. 

His probation matter was serious business but they were comfortable enough with each other to share a laugh about hypothetical battles over lemon blueberry scones. She also liked the notion of Jon being willing to fight for her if there was a reason to. Very silly in one sense but there it was. Just the thought of Jon getting growly with someone on her behalf was… _sparks_. 

She wrinkled up her nose, catching the familiar scent. “Another onion bagel?”

“I like onion bagels,” he said with a shrug, taking a seat and passing over her tea. 

“With cream cheese and cucumbers, huh?” She might like onions in some things and cream cheese and cucumbers individually but together? _Blech._

_And you’ve got the most kissable lips, too. It’s a sin to be all oniony. Oh well, I suppose it’s a hurtle I could face for you_. Gods, she was ridiculous today. 

“That’s the only way to eat an onion bagel. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, Stark.” He pinched off a bite and held it in front of her. 

“You’d better not do the airplane and hanger thing with me.”

He chuckled. “I’ll let my mom do that to you like she used to with me when she makes you some of her onion chili.”

“Onion chili?”

“Onion beer chili to be exact.”

“Sounds spicy.”

“It is. Sets your mouth on fire…and your ass later if you’re not careful.”

“Oh, gods!” she cackled. It sounded nothing like her mother’s chili. Still, her tummy was swooping over the suggestion that he might have his mother make her chili and even more at the idea that they might go see his mother in Cerwyn together sometime. 

She stared at the bite, considering for several beats. “Look, I’m gonna eat it if you won’t.”

“Okay, okay.” 

She should probably take it with her fingers. That would be the polite, lady-like thing to do. But she was holding her tea and her scone and…well… _Jon_. 

She leaned forward and took the bite right from his fingers with her mouth, leaving them both surprised. The merest brush of her lips on his skin but her teeth claimed nothing but bagel. She didn’t lick his fingers or anything at least. _Oh, don’t tempt me._

The soft warm bagel with just a hint of onion really, the cool crunch of cucumber and the sharply tangy sweet flavor of the cream cheese at once was not terrible she discovered. 

_Could’ve used a bit of salt though…from his skin_. 

_Damn girl, how thirsty are we?_

He was watching her chew, those dark eyes intent, and she wondered what he was thinking as she pretended to be considering the morsel in her mouth rather than what she’d just done. It’s a good thing she was already sitting down.

“Well?” he asked at last, a bit of a hitch in his voice. 

“Say! I like green eggs and ham! I do! I like them, Sam-I-am!”

He snickered, knocking his shoulder gently against hers and… _hello_. “That settles it. I’m doing the airplane and hanger thing with you next time.” 

They kept grinning like goofs. 

Butterflies? Check.

Sparks? Check.

Swooping belly? Check. 

Thirst? Check. 

Okay, maybe she was more than twitterpated. 

“So, you’re flying to Last Hearth today, right?” she asked, tearing off some of her scone to chase the onion away. 

“Uh huh. You going with Qhorin again tomorrow?” 

“Yep.” 

Qhorin Halfhand had flown for Direwolf back when her grandfather still owned it but didn’t make a to-do out of her being a Stark or working there now. She’d been his co-pilot on every flight so far. 

_“Let’s see what you can do with this bird,”_ had been his words on their first flight. 

After that, it’d been a two-way street of respect and easy-going camaraderie in the cockpit. She was grateful for that pleasant surprise considering how some of the older generation of pilots typically took to female pilots or females in general. 

Her first flight into Wintertown National last week had been an eyeopener though. Nearly all the larger airlines, and Direwolf falling under Manderly counted as that, had their own crew lounges tucked away in any decently-sized hubs, out of sight from passengers and with strict employee-only policies. 

Mostly, they were used by the flight attendants in-between flights but Flight Operations Inflight Service Stations could be used by pilots, too. There were sleeping booths for anyone who needed to catch some zzzz’s between flights, a Groom Room for making sure uniforms were crisp and faces clean, a break room for grabbing a bite and computers available if you needed something more than your phone for internet surfing or setting up your next flight schedule.

And for pilots, there was generally a Dispatch Room. Once a pilots-only place to bitch about air traffic control, conditions or whatever, it was mostly just a longue now for sipping coffee and shooting the breeze. Usually, Sansa didn't have time between flights to kill but she’d walked into the one at Wintertown, merely curious about what went on there versus the rest of the service station. She’d immediately been cornered by an older man, around Qhorin’s age.

_“You lost, honey?”_

_“No, I’m…”_

_“This is for pilots only.”_

His aggressive stance and surly demeanor had been intimidating but Sansa had dealt with her share of intimidation, she’d told herself. _“Super. That’s why I’m here.”_

_“A fly girl, huh?”_

_“Yes.”_

He’d eyed her wings contemptuously. The silver winged wolf pin as opposed to a stitched on logo was part of her uniform to indicate that she was a pilot and not just any member of Direwolf’s staff. He’d stared at them like he was trying to figure out if they were counterfeit. 

_“Well, get me some coffee then, probie.”_

Probie. Yes, she was new and she knew older pilots frequently called younger ones, probationary employees, that. But just because she was new didn’t mean she was anyone’s coffee girl. 

She gave his own uniform shirt a long look along with his name stitched above the pocket. _“Get it yourself, Glover,”_ she’d said, following it up with one of her sunniest smile because no, that asshole wasn’t going to reduce her to being nasty that easily. Then, she’d walked past him to show he wouldn’t cow her. 

She’d also been trembling by the time she took a seat. 

She hated that. She didn’t care about that guy in particular but she didn’t like feeling intensely disliked, especially for no reason she could see beyond her gender. 

And she might’ve rolled her eyes to herself and moved past it but he’d started getting himself coffee, grumbling loudly while banging cabinets and slamming drawers needlessly. The drawer slamming and cabinet banging had taken her back to a place in time she’d rather forget, a time when an angry man haphazardly slamming and banging things usually meant she was in for a bad night. That had been why she’d been trembling. She hadn’t wanted anyone in that room to know it. 

She’d wanted to slink off but she’d stuck it out for twenty minutes. Then, Qhorin had found her and asked if she wanted to get some Mu-Shu Pork with him. 

_“I’d love that.”_

It’d been twenty minutes of sitting alone with no one coming to talk to her but all of them looking at her like she was not allowed to be after Glover had got his coffee. It had straight up sucked donkey balls to put it mildly and she’d doubly hated that it had happened in the Dispatch Room of the airport where Direwolf had started out, her hometown. 

It hadn’t taken Qhorin more than ten seconds to read the room either. _“I got some Preparation H in my bag if you need it, Glover.”_

_“What are you…”_

_“You’re always twice the asshole when your hemorrhoids are acting up. By the way, fellas…this is Sansa Stark, my new probie. One hell of a flier, got the winged wolf in her blood. Be sweethearts and get her a cup of tea_ _next time she comes in here, yeah?”_

They’d all looked away, shamed by Qhorin _._ Sansa wondered if her grandfather knew some of them. She wondered if he would’ve agreed with their behavior once upon a time. She knew he wouldn’t now. 

_“I’d say don’t mind them but it can be hard not to, I know.”_

_“Thanks. I’m okay. I just didn’t expect that here.”_

_“Hostile work environment. Shouldn’t have to put up with it. Those dummies outta take a peek into this century.”_

_“Thanks, Qhorin. Do you really think I’m a good pilot?”_

_“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”_

He’d chugged her on the shoulder then, a very guy-type thing to do, and bought her a plate of the greasy airport Mu-Shu Pork. _He must have guts of steel_. All the same, she’d eaten every bite happily.

“I’m glad you’ve got Qhorin as your mentor,” Jon said, drawing her back to the present. 

She’d shared the whole experience with Jon over the phone that night. He'd been incensed on her behalf and said he knew plenty of dickweeds like that in the Watch. She'd appreciated the friendly ear to bend, one who wouldn't fret endlessly in the manner her mother would. She'd shared most of it anyway. She’d not told him about Joffrey so no need to mention why or how Glover’s behavior had made her upset in a different way. She would though, when the time felt right. 

“I’m glad I’ve got you to talk to here,” she replied, giving his shoulder a gentle knock with her own. "You can always talk shop with me whenever you want."

"I know. I've already shared my butterfingers story with you. And thanks for not laughing at that." He bit at that full bottom lip after finishing off his bagel. “When are you taking me flying, Stark?”

She grinned despite the assault of a swooping belly full of scone, onion bagel and butterflies. “Soon, I hope.”

They started comparing notes on their schedules. No flights together yet, none scheduled together yet. It would happen soon enough they figured. 

Thirty minutes later, they disposed of their trash and called the dogs to them. He needed to get ready for his flight later and she had some laundry to do before she’d need to get in bed early. 

When they parted, they just said goodbye. "Be safe up there," she told him. 

"You do the same," he replied.

No hugs or kisses or holding hands yet. Maybe that’d be coming though…when the time felt right. 

* * *

_“I see you’ve got plenty of flight time in as a pilot,”_ Wynafryd Manderly had asked when she’d interviewed him.

_“Yeah, around 2700 hours.”_

_“More in fighters than transports?”_

_“Split between them. Less months as a transport pilot but we saw more time in air. In peace time, the Watch has to mind their groats when it comes to jet fuel for the fighters,_ _etcetera.”_

_“Gotcha. And you’d like to be a pilot for us someday if you can get your license?”_

_“I would. But I’ll be more than happy to serve as a member of the crew in a different capacity until that’s possible.”_

_“That’s good. Flight attendants serve a vital role with our company, something that the best pilots understand. The pilot may fly the plane but it’s our attendants who keep things running smoothly up there. I think you’d be a plus for Direwolf. Now, we’re willing to work with you but we can’t have any incidents.”_

_“Yeah, of course. I get it. There won’t be any incidents.”_

He got it. No shoving people around, no cursing idiots, no plate glass windows shattered, no fisticuffs over the last lemon blueberry scone even. He did not want to give Direwolf Air or Manderly any reason to regret hiring him. With an assault charge still open, he was grateful for this opportunity and didn’t mean to blow it.

His role was to help passengers, see to it that they were safe and as comfortable as possible during their flight, and to act as a liaison between the pilots and the passengers as needed. Helping people during a flight could involve lots of different scenarios. During his five weeks of flight attendant training, he’d understood all that in theory but, on-the-job, he was seeing it more and more firsthand.

_“They’re our passengers, our customers but they’re also just people like me and you,”_ Myranda Royce had told him on their first flight together. “ _Try and see things from their perspective when an issue comes up but never let them think they’re in charge either. We work to diffuse any tensions but safety comes first. It’s a balancing act at times.”_

She wasn’t lying. Myranda had been a flight attendant for nearly ten years and was acting as his mentor like Qhorin’s was Sansa’s. He’d flown every flight with her so far. She was helping him learn the ropes, apparently determined to keep him flying and from flying off the handle.

Working with the public in this manner, he was honestly learning more about controlling his own temper, more than the military had taught him even. Yeah, that taught patience and how to shut up and follow orders but this was on a different level. He had a newfound respect for anyone working in the customer service industry because, fuck-a-duck, some people seemed to relish acting like assholes and there were days he still wondered if he could hack this.

Sure, there was petty stuff that was easy to let roll off his back.

“I’ve been waiting on that soda for six minutes!”

“I apologize for the delay but I’ve got it here. It’s the last diet soda and I had to find the…”

“SIX! MINUTES!”

_No shit? How have you not wasted away from your lack of soda in that period of time?_ “Here you go. Thank you for being so patient.”

And then, there were more serious issues that needed a firm but kind hand.

“Ma’am, we’re experiencing a good bit of turbulence and we’ll be landing soon so I need you to buckle up and…”

“I HATE THIS SEATBELT! IT’S CUTTING ME IN TWO!!!”

“I promise, it’s not cutting you in two.” _And I need you to calm down and stop freaking everybody else out._

“Don’t touch me!”

“I’m not touching you. I won’t touch you,” he said, holding up his hands. _But I’m not leaving the area until you’ve buckled up_. “Would you like for me to see if I can adjust your belt though and make it more comfortable perhaps?”

“I feel like I can’t breathe up here,” the passenger whispered next on the verge of tears.

The cabin of an airplane midflight was hardly an ideal place to have a panic attack. However, Jon could sympathize. Flying was stressful for a lot of people and, when combined with other personal struggles, it could exacerbate things.

“I know. Sometimes, it gets to us, too. It’s okay. I promise there’s plenty of air all around you. Let’s just focus on one breath at a time, alright? One breath in…one breath out. One breath in…and one breath out. Will you try it with me?”

“One breath in…”

“And one breath out. I can see White Harbor out the window. We’re almost home. See the lights? One breath in…”

“I…yeah, I see them. One breath in…”

“And one breath out.”

“It’s Jon right?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“I’m Lollys.”

“Hey, Lollys. Want to breath with me some more?”

“Yes.”

“Great. One breath in…and one breath out.” ***click*** “I’m sure you’ll feel better when we’re on the ground again,” he told her in the same calming voice. _The seatbelt is fastened and I never touched you._

“Yeah, I’m…yeah, thank you, Jon.”

That was the sort of incidents he didn’t mind diffusing at all. And even the Soda Addict was okay. He could smile and nod and keep his mouth shut…for the most part.

But then there were people who seemed to think it was their right to be as abusive to anyone and everyone as they pleased. And yeah, some of them reminded him a lot of that toad Slynt.

“Could someone shut that freaking brat up?! ARRRRGH!”

The man’s shout was followed by another pitiful wail. There was more than one passenger looking around uneasily and a few looked as annoyed as the man. Little kids on a crying jag onboard an airplane could make the whole experience frustrating for others. However, the kids (and their parents) were still people, too.

Jon grimaced, excused himself from Lollys who was hungrily eyeing the lights of White Harbor now and headed up the aisle to diffuse the next situation. Plus, he needed to get his own ass in a seat and buckled before long.

“Sir, I know it’s not pleasant to listen to but we’ll be landing shortly and…”

“Look, Bun Boy, I pay good money to fly on your airline and I don’t pay to listen to a squalling kid! So what are you going to do about it?”

The guy, some puffed-up business man, proceeded to poke him square in the chest. The ‘no touching without permission unless absolutely necessary’ understanding went both ways between crew and passengers…or was supposed to.

“Bun Boy?” He was ready to slap the guy's hand away when he started to raise it again. _Or deck him. And Bun Boy? Are you six?_ “Who the he-“

“Hey, Jon? Could you help me a sec?” Myranda asked from three rows forward where the little passenger with the impressive set of lungs was located.

He gave the guy a last long look, bit his tongue and joined Myranda half way between the two parties.

“Why don’t you help them and I’ll deal with him?” she whispered when they met. 

“The mom and the kid?”

He peeked around Myranda at the mother trying to console the inconsolable child. He didn’t like to think he was a coward but…well, he might be a bit of a coward when it came to dealing with little kids in the midst of a tantrum. He pictured lots of screaming the instant the kid took a look at him.

“I wouldn’t know what to say and we’re landing soon. Maybe we should just let the mom deal with it…”

“Look at her, Jon." 

He looked. She was probably his age or younger with dark curly hair and red-rimmed eyes. He didn't want to admit that she reminded him of his mom somewhat when she was younger but she did. 

"Four hours of trying to keep a two-year-old entertained and the break down is happening now. Whatever the story behind why she’s taken on the monumental task of flying with little one in tow, she’s exhausted, frustrated and embarrassed by the attention of others right now. It’s not our job to play nanny but, if we can offer a little support, why not try?”

“Right. Um, that guy poked me in the chest. If he touches you…”

“No worries. I’ll bite his finger off, Sparky.”

_Sparky_.

Myranda had labeled him with the nickname their first flight deciding he was a live wire after catching him in the midst of a (silent) cursing fit behind the curtain when he’d spilled an entire pot of hot coffee all over himself thanks to some unexpected turbulence. He'd been doing quite the little tantrum dance himself to be honest. 

He rolled his eyes at her when she called him that but also didn’t mind it which she’d figured out. It was nice being able to call Myranda a friend. Actually, he liked everyone he’d flown with so far.

_But unfortunately, I’ve not flown with the one person I really want to fly with yet._

Sansa was having her own little training period co-piloting beside Qhorin Halfhand on the Bay of Ice run. However, they were seeing each other as often as their crazy schedules allowed...but not the way he _wanted_ to see Sansa yet. They’d been very busy with training and adapting to their new jobs. He hoped to eventually work up his nerve to ask her out. _Better do it or Mom will ask her for me._

Damn, that’d been embarrassing. Part of him was still holding out hope that Sansa didn’t catch all of that conversation. All the same, him mentioning meeting Sansa to his mother was no fluke.

He’d guess he’d mentioned two other women to his mother in his entire lifetime in a romantic sense; his high school girlfriend Alys and then Val who he’d been involved with on and off up at Castle Black for three years before they'd finally broke up for the last time eighteen months ago.

While he wasn’t involved with Sansa in that way at all, certainly not after their first meeting, the fact that he’d brought her up at all, brought up their plans to have coffee to his mother meant something, something that had little to do with gabbing away to his mom on the phone when he was feeling kind of lonely and a lot to do with the fact he was already quite taken with the pretty pilot.

And that was _before_ their coffee meeting. Since then? Well, he was decidedly crushing, a serious case of 'in like' with his friend was in full swing if not more. Almost like…well, he couldn’t land on the right word but that zing from the first handshake was still with him and increasing with every passing interaction. 

Right now though, with them both finding their way with Direwolf, it was nice being friends. But unlike with Myranda, Jon wanted more than friendship with Sansa someday if he could ever be so lucky. Finding out if Sansa might be interested him in the same way though (and that was probably a big ‘if’) would need to wait just a little longer.

Their friendship was good though and good for them both. It sucked living somewhere you didn’t know anybody after a while. Now, they had each other to call up for regular meetings at the dog park. Ghost and Lady were obviously in love though no pitter-patter of little paws would be heard. Jon might envy the dogs their open affection a bit. Or more than a bit. He wouldn’t mind nuzzling Sansa when they met at the park by way of saying hello.

But back to them, they'd done a little dog-sitting for each other what with the crazy schedules. He didn’t have to spend every single free moment alone if he didn’t want to either. They'd even made one late night trip to the movies together when they'd bumped into each other at the airport two weeks ago. 

And a little while ago, he'd got a text saying she was in White Harbor for the weekend if he wanted to meet for wings later.

_Wings? Seriously, Stark? Is this a civilian brand of pilot humor?_

_Yeah, wings. All of us fliers need our wings. And I’m not flying until Tuesday so I can have beer tonight!_

_You don’t really like beer._

_But everyone says that you must have beer with wings._

_Everyone isn’t you._ Not by a long shot. 

_Okay, I’ll have a margerita then._

_That’s more like you._

_It’s settled. Now, say you’ll come eat wings with me, Jon!_

She’d followed it up with a string of pitiful little begging emojis and he’d been grinning at his phone as he gave her a thumbs up and a chicken wing in reply.

Of course, wings with Sansa meant a group. Several members of Direwolf’s crew met regularly at The Wolf’s Den on Friday or Saturday nights if they were in town. This wasn't the first time either of them had gone, nor the first time they'd be there together but it was the first time Sansa had extended the invitation directly to him. 

Maybe one of these days, Jon would nut up and ask her to go have food somewhere with just him. _I'd happily hand feed her bites of anything she wants, too._ Oh yeah, the Onion Bagel Temptation from last week hadn't been forgotten. It had featured in a few of his x-rated showers since then even.

But for now…

_Alright, back to business._

Adapting what he hoped was a non-threatening, maybe even engaging smile, he came to stop at the aisle seat with the harried mother and hysterical toddler.

“Hi, I’m Jon. What's your name?”

Wide brown eyes stared back at him for a few blinks…just before an ear-splitting screech erupted.

* * *

“And then what happened?”

“I am clearly the most frightening monster ever to fly the friendly skies.” 

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Sansa said, giggling at his deadpan delivery. Too much tequila gave her the giggles. _Oh, who are you kidding? You giggle like a school girl around him all the time!_

“Well, maybe not the absolute most frightening ever,” he demurred before giving her a grin, a flat-out, panty-drenching grin. _Day-yum_. “You going to eat those last two wings, Stark?”

He licked his lips and she wondered what he’d do if she held one up for him like he’d done at the dog park the other day with the Onion Bagel Incident. She’d like to feel him sucking sauce off her fingers. _Down, girl. You are not alone!_

Chickening out, she shook her head and slid her basket his way, knowing her face was beet red but hoping the hot sauce could be blamed. Gods, the sauce was hot but he was hotter. Sitting side-by-side at the bar top table, she could practically feel the warmth radiating off of him but those cool grey eyes of his seemed to set her on fire even more so whenever they glanced her way. She’d already had to restrain herself from letting her hand rest on his knee at one point. 

(And on an interesting sidenote, the image of Jon soothing a savage toddler was wreaking havoc on her ovaries.)

“No, don’t believe Sparky for a second, Sansa,” Myranda said from across the table, breaking in on her little lust-filled revelry. She set her bottle of beer back down on the table with a thunk and pointed at the pair of them with a grin of her own. “He took the free seat across from them and started making the cutest little airplane noises, like the ones moms might do to get a kid to eat. Had the boy giggling like mad by the time we touched down.”

Sansa wished she’d seen it. She tried not to let her face fall at the further reminder that they weren’t alone either. She wasn’t sure if she succeeded or not. 

She shouldn’t be upset that Jon had shown up here with Myranda tonight. It wasn’t like this was a date. She’d not been alone when she’d invited him nor had the trip to The Wolf’s Den been her idea originally.

But Qhorin asking her to come along and telling her to invite a friend if she wanted felt different than Jon bringing Myranda. No one would think she was here with Qhorin in a romantic sense, would they? 

_Gods, he’s older than Dad,_ she thought with a shudder. 

_Myranda’s Jon’s mentor, just like Qhorin’s mine._

_Yeah but there’s not decades between them in age. And Qhorin doesn’t call me any nicknames._

Of course, not everyone present was Qhorin’s age. In fact, most were decidedly younger.

“The mom will be tabbing you for babysitting duties next flight, Snow,” Ethan Forrester said, drawing Sansa back to the table’s discussion of the little passenger that Jon had calmed. Ethan was a pilot like Sansa and alright.

“Nah, I’ve got enough on my plate taking care of Ghost for now when I’m home.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Snow. A lonely single mom might be looking to become a frequent flier with a guy like you,” Harry Hardyng added. Also a pilot and also a very special brand of asshole. He wasn’t a Joffrey. He wasn’t a crusty, boys-club-only type flier like Glover either but he was as bad in other ways especially after a few beers, she’d heard. 

“I’m not there to hit on passengers, Hardyng.”

“Might as well make the most out of your gig while you’re metaphorically grounded, Snow."

The news of Jon’s probation had leaked just as he’d expected it would. Jon had only told her which meant someone in HR or the back offices had gabbed. It was wrong but there was little he could do about it without knowing who’d said anything. Still, it still pissed Sansa off.

"You know? I actually might envy you, Snow. I mean, it's not like us pilots get to see the pretty passengers up close and personal in the cockpit the way you peanut slingers do. Have you considered showing some leg? Might earn you some tip money to keep your uniforms all crisp and pretty," Harry said, near chortling over his pathetic behavior. 

Qhorin was engrossed in the game that was playing over the bar and didn’t hear him. The other two male pilots were stifling their snickers. The other flight attendants, all women, looked at Harry with pursed lips. So did Sansa. _I hope you fall off your barstool and choke on a chicken wing._

But the important question was, how much did it bother Jon? Would it stoke his ire? She didn’t want him to do anything that might endanger his career further. 

Apparently, it didn’t piss him off that much. Jon gave Harry a cold look and said, "Hey Hardyng? Remember when I asked for your opinion? Oh right, me neither." He then turned away from Harry and glanced at Sansa’s empty glass. “You want another?”

She started to answer when Myranda jumped back into the conversation. “Oh, I know Jon wouldn’t do anything but she definitely wanted to tab him for more than babysitting duties based on the heart eyes she was shooting his way.”

“Oh yeah?” Ethan asked, grinning. 

“Myranda…”

“She gave you her number, didn’t she?”

Why were Myranda and Jon both staring at her? And did that lady really give Jon her number??

“Uh, she tried to. I didn’t take it.” Well, wasn’t that interesting? He’d offered up his number to her readily enough. Did him not taking another woman’s number mean anything? Probably not. He wanted to be professional. 

“Trust me. With this job, she won’t be the last to offer,” Myranda smirked. 

_Ugh_. Hook-ups were not a total myth between crew and passengers. They did occasionally happen.

“Whatever. Did you want another drink, Sansa?” 

She probably didn’t _need_ another drink considering how buzzed she was but he’d asked twice now and was already trying to extract himself from the table so Sansa agreed to him fetching her another while wondering if she needed to be more worried about Myranda or female passengers hitting on Jon. She wasn’t the only woman with eyes around here. 

But maybe she didn’t need to worry too much.

Myranda scooted over, taking Jon’s spot and whispered in her ear. “I’m not sure what your relationship status is, Sansa, but you do realize Sparky can’t keep his eyes off you, right?”

Her face was beet red again and there were no wings right in front of her to blame. “You…you think so?” she asked, shooting a look at table’s other occupants who were yelling at the televised game now before turning back to Myranda.

“I’ve got a perfect view of you both at this table. These guys might not see it but it’s obvious to me there’s some clear for take-off signals on his end. What about you?”

“I’m…we’re friends but we’re…um…”

He hadn’t asked her out yet which she could understand. They’d both been training and finding their way. She hadn’t asked him out yet either for that matter. Well, she did ask him to meet her for coffee the first time and she’d invited him along to wings but that wasn’t a date. Jon had taken her to the late, late show one night and they were meeting at the dog park but that wasn’t exactly dating either, was it?

Myranda was still staring at her. “He came here with you."

"No, I asked what he was doing and he said Wolf's Den. Everybody hangs out here now and then. We came in our own cars. And you're decidedly buzzy. Might need a ride home. Can't risk a DUI."

"Qhorin said he'd drive me."

"Okay. Did you want Qhorin or Jon taking you home?" Sansa had to stifle another giggle. "Guess we know the answer there. I’m no pilot but I’m not a bad wing woman, you know.”

"So you're not interested in..."

"In Jon? Honey, I'm not saying I couldn't be but, when a man has as clear a preference for another woman as he does for you, it's depressing to make a fool of yourself."

Sansa’s lips twitched. “I wouldn’t be opposed to, um…but I wasn’t sure if that’d be too soon after we started or…”

The rest of her words faded out with Jon’s return. Myranda hopped up from his stool and glided over to the pub’s resident jukebox while Sansa thanked Jon for the drink and covertly studied him some more. Was Myranda right?

“Hey, Sparky! You like this one?” Myranda hollered a few seconds later after making a selection. "This is _the_ fighter pilot romantic ballad, right?"

Jon groaned and covered his face as The Righteous Brothers started to play. 

_“_ _You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips  
_

_And there's no tenderness like before in your fingertips  
_

_You're trying hard not to show it  
_

_But baby, baby I know it…”_

“That movie has reduced a good song to an 80’s movie cliché,” Qhorin groused. 

“It may be an 80’s movie cliché at this point but I still love it,” Sansa declared, offering Jon an opening if he’d take it. And how could she not love it? She’d caught her parents dancing to it once in the living room after Robb had asked to watch that particular movie.

Her eyes were on Jon and his were on her but Ethan started babbling. “Hey, Sansa? Would you want to…”

“Dance with me,” Jon cut in before Ethan could finish. Much as she tried to fight it, she couldn’t stop the biggest grin from forming on her face. 

“Yo, Snow. I was going to ask her.”

“Too slow on the trigger, Forrester. You could ask Myranda.” 

There was a bit of tension at the table now with some looks being exchanged around them. She didn't mind. Jon was sweet guy but there was a touch of that fly boy assurance in him. She didn’t mind that either. Secretly, she might've liked it, liked it in him anyway. Harry looked noticeably sour watching their exchange. _Whatever. You’re a prick_. 

But then, Jon looked back her with less assurance. A little vulnerability could stroke good notes with her, too. “I mean, would you want to dance with me, Sansa?”

“Yeah, alright." She was going for casual but it came out like a breathy, swoony sigh. _I am blaming the tequila._

It was just a dance at the local hangout with coworkers between two friends on a Saturday night. 

But maybe, when Jon held her close, wrapping her securely but gently between his strong arms, letting her breathe in the scent of his leather jacket as they started to sway, maybe it felt like a little bit more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, we all know how terrible I am about sticking to outlines so don't be shocked if this goes from 3 chapters to 4 (or more.) I am forever a gardener over an architect as a writer so here we are *shrugs*
> 
> Meanwhile, we're getting there but one dance does not a tumble into the sack make... _yet._ If we could get Lyanna and Cat together though, these two kids wouldn't stand a chance. 
> 
> I've got something I'm writing for the Halloween event coming up but then I may take a little posting hiatus to recharge. Thank you for reading <3


	3. Take-off...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for very brief description of past abuse towards the end of the chapter as Sansa opens up to Jon about things.

* * *

_“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. We’re making our final preparations for landing and our flight crew will be asking you to resume your seats at this time and fasten your…”_

Jon was grinning just hearing her voice over the P.A. system. While part of him would like to be the one addressing the passengers as the captain, he was so pleased for Sansa. Honestly, he’d barely stopped grinning since he’d learnt she was going to be the pilot for this flight. He'd definitely been happy since they’d had a few minutes to make post-flight plans prior to take-off.

He probably would have grinned the entire time…

“Hey, have they really got some chick flying this plane? Heh-heh.”

…if it weren’t for Bruce Douche in Seat 3-B.

The self-appointed in-flight comedian was hungry for laughs except no one was laughing. Too many people forget how golden silence can be in certain settings and, once they open their dumb mouths, can’t seem to shut them again.

“Did the pilots all die up there and they had to stick one of the space waitresses in the cockpit? Heh-heh.”

_Okay, that’s enough out of you, funny guy._ “Actually, she’s a fantastic pilot and rules are rules so go ahead and take a seat… _sir.”_

Jon may have given old Bruce a bit of a menacing stare when he’d 'helped' him take a seat and given his lap belt a hard tug.

“But I needed to pee,” he heard Bruce whimper as he walked away.

_Guess you’ll need to hold it. Too bad. Heh-heh._

Jon had flown from White Harbor to Karhold earlier. He was supposed to take a booked flight back to White Harbor (which would’ve meant the jumpseat for him, a damned uncomfortable seat for spare crew) but the flight from Karhold to Cerwyn was short an attendant and a little rearranging was all it had taken to get him flying to his hometown for the night. 

His mother was beside herself when he’d called and asked if she wanted company tonight. Tomorrow, he'd be working the Winterfell-Widow's Watch-White Harbor leg. He'd originally agreed to keep Lady for the night for Sansa but his landlord's kid loved Ghost and would adore Lady, he knew. She'd agreed she could take care of both dogs over night so Jon was getting some overtime and a homecooked meal. What could be better?

Well, something had made it better, much better.

Sansa was piloting this flight out from under Qhorin’s watchful eye for the first time. Jon had snuck up to the cockpit during her pre-flight check to say hello, figuring she might be nervous. She had been and it probably didn’t help that Harry Hardyng was her co-pilot. It was supposed to be Ethan but Ethan had caught a virus and was home in bed.

Harry had been giving her a pop quiz like she didn’t know her shit when Jon had joined them. He'd been flying longer but remained in co-pilot status for much of his flights, Jon had noticed. And, his demeanor towards Sansa was a mix of flirtation and condescension. Neither had a place here.

Of course, once Jon had turned up, Harry had been focused on him.

_“Oh hey, Jon. Better go freshen up your lipstick before we take off. There’s a few businessmen in first class who might be looking for a new honey,”_ Harry had said when Jon had asked if they wanted anything.

Jon knew Sansa worried about him and his temper but a guy like Harry would have to work a lot harder to get under his skin. He'd just ignored Harry which he'd figured out quickly was the thing that got under _Harry's_ skin. 

_“Stop annoying our crew, Harry. Why don’t you read over your own checklist again? I want to be sure you've got it down pat."_

She'd tapped on a small red placard on the co-pilot's side. It looked like the work of Qhorin to Jon and he'd been biting at his lip to keep from laughing out loud as he read it over Harry's shoulder. 

**Co-pilot’s checklist:**

**1\. Don’t touch anything.**

**2\. Keep your mouth closed.**

It was a joke that had obviously been there for ages but it effectively ended the quiz game and the stupid remarks.

For all her sweetness, there was a definite feistiness to Sansa that Jon enjoyed thoroughly. Her flying for the winged wolf was damned appropriate, not only for the family connection but also because she wasn't afraid to show her teeth. 

_“I’d love some tea later if you don’t mind, Jon.”_

_“You got it. Harry? Sure you don’t want some coffee?”_ He would’ve been happy to bring Harry a cup of hot coffee…and daydream about dumping it in his lap.

_“No, thanks, jail bird,”_ Harry had muttered, sourly.

The trip to The Wolf’s Den last weekend was still fresh on everyone’s minds obviously. Sansa had turned Harry down for a dance after dancing to two songs with Jon.

(Yes, those two dances had been the best two dances of his life and yes, holding Sansa’s body close to his and inhaling the sweet citrusy scent of her shampoo while swaying to The Righteous Brothers and then Berlin’s ‘Take My Breath Away’-apparently Myranda really liked to go all in when recalling 80s movie classics on the jukebox-had added to the Onion Bagel Temptation list of things that made Sansa the star of all his Naughty Shower Time Longings since they’d met.)

Then, Sansa had accepted a ride home from Jon because she was too buzzed to drive. Naturally, people who had been there had been making assumptions since then. Myranda had warned him that Harry had a big mouth. It'd look pretty good with Jon's fist in it but he wasn't going to risk his probation. Now, other people around the airline who weren't even there that night knew that Jon had driven Sansa home. It wasn't their business but Jon knew too well that you can't stop the gossip train. 

_Maybe it’s one assumption I wouldn’t mind them making…if it were true._

But of course, she’d been quite tipsy and it would’ve been very wrong of him to speak of, much less act on his feelings under those circumstances.

He’d helped an adorably giggly Sansa in the door and bid her goodnight as Lady had rushed up to see what was what. Jon had known the malamute would take care of their lady to the best of her doggie abilities from there…no matter how much he might’ve liked to tuck her into bed.

And when they’d met at the dog park the next day with Sansa nursing a hangover, they’d eaten their breakfast (banana and scrambled egg burritos this time) and talked like always.

_“I can’t eat that,”_ she’d moaned as he’d wafted one delicious burrito under her nose.

_“Yeah, you can. The banana and egg wrapped up in the warm tortilla will absorb the rest of the alcohol and put all your bilious humors back to rights. The bit of honey and peanut butter makes it yummy so that's like serotonin for your mood-enhancing needs.”_

_“Very pseudo-scientific sounding.”_

_“Hey, this is a surefire hangover cure, tried and true.”_ She’d looked at him dubiously. _“You’re looking at a man of the Nights Watch and, believe me, there was very little to do up there in your spare time but drink, recover from drinking and then drink some more. We take hangover cures seriously.”_ A dubious look at the burrito next. _“You can throw up on me if I’m wrong.”_

That had produced a hysterically shrill, _“I’m never throwing up on you!”_

_“That’s a relief but never say never."_ A damn cute huff had followed. _"You don’t have to eat it all. I’ll hold your hair back and everything if this doesn’t agree with you.”_

_“Well…I didn’t mind the onion bagel.”_

_“There’s the spirit. Now, open the hanger. Here comes the airplane,”_ he’d teased.

Amazingly, she’d let him feed her the first bite, her pink tongue darting out to catch a dribble of honey that had landed on his thumb even.

_“Good girl,”_ he’d whimpered. Gods, shower time had got some new material to work with. It would be unbearably good if she’d join him in it.

She’d chewed up her bite, considering. _“It’s good. And I think this is the sweetest and weirdest hangover conversation I think I’ve ever had.”_

_“Sweet for a sweet lady.”_

She’d flushed at his words. He’d been flushing, too. He’d not meant to say that bit out loud but, well… _Sansa_.

_"Hey Jon?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"I think just hanging out like this is mood enhancing."_ Then, she'd given him the sunniest smile despite her hangover. 

Damn. What did he say to that?! 

Well, what _had_ he said? 

Nothing. Like an idiot, he'd just grinned at her and playfully knocked his shoulder against hers while internally having a little freak-out over trying to be cool.

Yes, there’d been an _awareness_ of the previous night and those two dances hanging in the air but neither of them had said anything about it. Should he have said something? Fuck, he wasn’t sure. He knew hangover cures. This was something he was a little less sure of. 

His high school relationship had been very high school, as in lots of high-pitched emotions and hormone-driven, awkward fumblings in his backseat with very little foundation to hold it together when it inevitably crashed and burned. The thing with Val had been more grown-up except it sprang out of their environment more than any great pull towards a deep and abiding romance together. They were two adults who were attracted to each other in the setting of the military. Both of them kind of knew deep down that they were together because they preferred each other over being alone or anyone else up there. It had been no great shock or heartbreak when Val had told him she'd been talking to her ex-boyfriend shortly before she was discharged. She was going to be moving back into her civilian life without him dangling in the wind. C'est la vie. 

But with Sansa, he could already tell it would gut him to be cut loose like that. He definitely wanted more with her but he was honestly scared shitless over getting it right. 

_You were a fighter pilot. You flew dangerous missions. And you're too chicken to tell a girl you like her?_

_No, I'm too chicken to tell a woman I love her._

How did he broach this thing that seemed to be brewing between them without possibly making their friendship awkward for them both and winding up shot down in the end?

_Figure it out, ace. Will it be a soft landing or crash and burn? You'll never know if you stay on the ground the whole time._

As Sansa emerged from the cockpit after having landed their bird safely with the passengers already having disembarked, Jon was pretty damned sure he’d never seen anything more fetching than her in her pilot’s uniform with her aviators pushed back in her hair and her tie askew. His lady pilot was sexy as hell even after a long day. No matter how much he might fear a crash, she was worth the risk.

_Now to find the right moment though._

She gave Harry the side-eye as he made some flippant remark in her ear and then strode off along his merry way. Wherever he was going for the night, neither of them cared. 

“What'd he say to you?"

"Asked if I wanted to meet him for breakfast." He scoffed. "Then said he'd be happy to phone me or nudge me. As _if."_

He laughed at that and her shudder of disgust. Harry was a good-looking guy but he really had a high opinion of himself. _Way too high. Needs to crash and burn someday._ "Are you ready to come home and meet Mom, dear?” he asked, playfully.

He could see the tension leaving her shoulders and loved the smile that drew out. Flying was amazing but a very intensive experience especially when many more lives than your own were on the line. You had to bleed it off a bit. He knew it. Sansa knew it or was coming to know it. He was sure Harry hadn't made it any easier on her. 

“Are you sure she doesn’t mind, Jon? Or you? The airline would put me up at the motel for the night if…”

“No, no, no. No roach coach motels for you.”

“It’s hardly a roach coach.”

“And Lyanna Snow would drive there herself to come fetch you if I don’t bring you with me.”

He’d barely told his mother about Sansa being the pilot of his flight before she’d started asking if Sansa would be staying overnight in Cerwyn too and then insisting that Jon bring her home for night.

_“I’ll put those high thread-count spare sheets on the bed in the guest bedroom! Or should I put them on your bed?! You’re not a kid and I’m not living in the Dark Ages. I usually sleep with that white noise machine on anyway if…”_

_“Gods, Mom! Put them on the guest bed and please don’t embarrass the hell out of me!”_

Was he frightened about what his mother might say to Sansa? Oh yeah.

Was some inevitable mortification worth it to have the night and most of the next day with Sansa and introduce the two women he loved to each other? Fuck yeah.

“So, are we all set then?” she asked as they headed down the exit tunnel.

“All set. Oh wait! Mom’s cooking but they had a box of these onboard to give passengers. I snagged an extra one for you.”

He reached into his flight bag and pulled out the little pre-wrapped treat, holding it out to her.

She stared and stared. She looked up at him, puzzled. Her lips twitched and then her eyes teared up.

Was she amused? Had he upset her?

She made a little sobbing sound next.

Holy shit! He’d done something wrong!

But no…maybe not.

Sansa wrapped her hand around the little pre-wrapped cake and held it like he’d just offered her a diamond ring. Then, she threw her arms around his neck. Another sob and then laughter.

There were other crew members from other flights and other airlines around them now. Some were stopping what they were doing and staring at them. Jon didn’t care. He just cared that something about the Wolfie’s Lemoncake had made his friend very emotional.

“I’ll explain, I promise,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Can we get headed?”

“Of course, we can.”

* * *

_Hi, Mom. Just letting you know I’m back on the ground and everything went well._

_I’m so glad! Any chance you could spend the night with us?_

_It’s an hour and half to your house from here and we'll need to check in at WN tomorrow by eleven._

_Your father said he’d drive down to get you._

_That's very sweet but don’t send Dad out so late. I'll come visit soon but I’m actually staying with Jon and his mother here in Cerwyn tonight._

_👀_

_Oh good. You’ve discovered emojis. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight!_

It was dark out and the streets were wet when she put her phone back in her bag. Jon was giving some last second directions to the driver. A light snowfall covered the grass. It made her think of home which wasn’t surprising since Winterfell Proper was an hour, give or take, up the road with the airport a little closer. Funny to think how her and Jon had grown up so close but never met until White Harbor.

If Sansa was in White Harbor tonight she’d probably be ready for a hot bath and bed after a long day flying. Her leg muscles were still cramped from sitting and her shoulders were from the tension.

_Or maybe not. Lady is at Jon's and I might've wanted some company first anyway._

The flight earlier had been more stressful than she’d been expecting. There was the nerves from being the captain for the first time and being in command of that giant winged wolf seeing dozens of people safely from Point A to Point B for which she’d been preparing herself. While Qhorin had let her fly plenty as he sat back and watched, this was more like she was doing it on her own…except she hadn’t been on her own. 

Harry had been annoying enough to make a stressful task worse than it had to be. She really didn’t want to fly with him again if she could avoid it. He’d kept tutting at her when there was no reason to tut. She knew what she was doing, damn it. But knowing she had zero interest in him and that he wasn’t able to get Jon riled up seemed to make Harry an even bigger wanker than usual. It was like the teacher being evaluated while trying to teach a crucial lesson but by someone who wasn’t even qualified to do so. Nerve-wracking. 

If they’d been flying into White Harbor, she might’ve asked Jon if her and Lady could hang out for a while, watch some mindless television to decompress. Or maybe she might’ve told him the lemoncake story and why she'd cried earlier. 

_But we’re not in White Harbor…_

The backseat of their Uber on the way to his mother's house wasn't the place to share it either. 

"All good?" he asked.

"Yes, just had to check in and let her know take-off and landing went well. She worries."

"Moms. Let's hope things go well with mine." 

Well, didn't that make her stomach twist with nerves? Lyanna Snow clearly loved her son and he loved her. Why would he be worried about them meeting? “Why are you nervous? I’m the one meeting your mother. If anyone should be nervous here, it should be me. In fact, you being nervous over this meeting is making me more nervous.”

“No, no, don’t be nervous! I'm sorry for making that sound bad. You’re amazing and she’s going to love you. I’m just nervous because you’re meeting my mother and I want you to like her.”

“I’m sure I’ll like her, Jon. She raised you and obviously did an excellent job with that.”

“Thanks. I'm sure I gave her more than enough trouble at times.” He scrubbed at his beard. “I’m sorry to act like this. I've only brought one other girl home to meet her and that was my prom date." 

His playful grin had her stomach muscles easing again but also was he telling her that _she_ was only the second girl (and first woman) Jon Snow had ever brought home?! Even Val who she knew he'd seen for a good while when they'd been in the Watch together hadn't been brought home to mom for a visit? _Whoa_. 

"Anyway, she doesn’t have much of a filter and she might imply that we’re…”

“More than friends?”

“Yeah.”

“My mother is already implying the same.”

“Really?” He chuckled, sounding relieved when she nodded. “Well, I guess we’d better not get them together or they might lock us in a bedroom together and…”

He trailed off as his eyes dropped to her mouth. Her lips parted as he stared at them, her mind racing away with scenarios that would put the Onion Bagel Incident or even the Honey-Licking/Good-Girl Affair to shame in their tameness. 

(Yes, Jon calling her ‘Good Girl’ after she’d licked the dribble of honey off his thumb that last morning at the dog park had featured heavily in Sansa’s Fantasy Island of Get-Your-Rocks-Off ever since.)

_But locked in a bedroom together? Oh, whatever would we do?_

“We’re here!” the uber driver announced just at that interesting juncture...damn him. 

But the interruption was just as well. She could hardly forget those dances last weekend and how it had felt to be held in Jon's arms. Like a fool, she'd gotten tipsy enough to need a ride but Jon, of course, had been a gentleman. No matter how much some of the female employees at Direwolf might fish hoping she'd share something juicy, there was nothing to share. He'd driven her home, seen her safely inside and then left. 

_Didn't even tuck me in._ She was probably horrible to wish that he had. She hadn't been wasted. She'd been plenty capable of brushing her teeth, changing her clothes and falling into bed alone. She could still secretly pout over him not doing that though, right? 

Then, the next morning at the dog part, he'd seemed like always which was nice on one hand. It was embarrassing to wonder how big of a fool you might've made of yourself when you were intoxicated. On the other though, she'd wondered if all those sparks were one-sided. She hadn't thought so when they'd been dancing but what if she was wrong? _Talk about embarrassing._

But, just like Jon's hangover cure (which had seemed to work), this was something she was unfamiliar with. They were co-workers and friends. She'd never had a relationship with someone she worked with in the past or gone from friends to lovers in previous relationships. It made her hesitate. She wanted to wait for the tower to give her the 'all clear' but romance didn't work like air traffic control, did it? 

_Well, tonight won't be the night to find out more than likely. Sweet Maiden, you're meeting his mother! You're not going to bang him for the first time in her guest bedroom._

Lyanna Snow’s house was small but it was homey and neat as a pin, the kind of place that made you feel welcome the moment you set foot inside of it. That was probably due in large part to the owner, easily half a head shorter than them both, who was practically bouncing where she stood by the door when they headed up the front walk. 

“You’re here! You’re here!” she cried, the same loud but bright voice Sansa had heard over the phone a few times by now, and, with the way she threw one arm around each neck, Sansa couldn’t tell if she was more excited to see her son or herself.

It made Sansa feel warm and fuzzy and… _now,_ _I miss my mommy. Oh shit._

“Hey, Mom,” Jon said softly before crushing them both in a hug, making Sansa gasp and her emotions do somersaults again. Gods, she did _not_ need to start crying again. He was going to think her a total wreck.

With the same grey eyes and dark curls, Lyanna Snow cupped her son’s face, tilting it down a bit as she beamed up at him, going on about how handsome he was with his beard (totally accurate and thank gods Direwolf hadn’t had an issue with facial hair). Then, she was saying his color was a little off and had he been sleeping enough in that ‘Mom Voice’ that might be annoying on occasion but never left you doubting that they cared. 

Then, she turned fully to Sansa, grasping both of her hands and bouncing again. “I’m so happy to meet you, Sansa!”

“I’m happy to meet you too, Ms. Snow.” Jon had already told her there was no Mister Snow except himself and that his father was a sore subject. You’d never guess there was a sore subject around Lyanna though. “Thank you so much for inviting me to stay the night on such short…” 

“Oh no! Please, think nothing of it and call me Lyanna! I’ve been eager to have you for a visit and can’t believe how well it worked out! Kismet, I’m sure! But I’ll bet you’re tired from flying. Otherwise, I’d be tempted to keep you up all night talking. Jon talks about you all the time and says you’re...”

“It’s a bit cold out, isn’t it, Mom?” Jon interrupted. “And we’re both starved. I told Sansa about your chili and she’s daring enough to try it.” 

Sansa couldn’t help flushing at his adorably flustered attempts to head his mother off. By the way Lyanna’s eyes narrowed and she smirked, Sansa could tell she wasn’t any more fooled by his evasive maneuvers than she was. Still, she wasn’t intending to make her only child run screaming from the house no sooner than he arrived. 

“It is cold out here so let’s go in! Chili and catching up and getting to know each other! Sansa, I hear you've got a lovely malamute and Ghost is in love! I pulled out the old Jenga set so we can have something to do as we gab! Now, the chili is fiery so don’t think you’re offending me if you don’t like it. I’m making grilled cheese sandwiches, too.”

Grilled cheese, chili and Jenga? This wasn’t a homecoming for Sansa but, damn, if it didn’t feel a bit like one. "Thank you, Lyanna. That all sounds great."

She got another quick squeeze of a hug and, for once, Lyanna Snow actually whispered something. "No, thank you. I can already tell how much you mean to him," she told her earnestly before heading off ahead of them. "Come in, come in! Jon, show Sansa to her room and you two wash up while I get the bowls out!" 

Forty-five minutes later, they were all scraping the last of Lyanna’s Onion Beer Chili out of their bowl and Sansa had only eaten half her grilled cheese in between questions about life in Winterfell and her university days and making careful moves to pull the next wooden block out.

Lyanna had started teasing Jon a bit, trying to see if he could handle the pressure. “If he's in pilot mode, you can hardly beat him at Jenga. He's laser-focused, meticulous about achieving his objective."

"Laser-focused on achieving his objectives, huh?"

"Depends on my objective," Jon said, giving Sansa a saucy wink before his mother continued.

"If he gets temperamental though, that's when you have a chance."

"I've been waiting on passengers for nearly three months now, Mom. I'm not easily riled at this point."

"Oh really? Sansa, would you care to see some pictures of Jon as a baby?" she asked with a wicked grin just as he'd put his fingers on a block.

"Mom..."

"I didn't get his hair cut until he was five. He had the most precious curls."

"Oh, I'll bet," Sansa snickered as she saw Jon's mouth twist in annoyance. "Careful there, Sparky."

"Not you, too," he huffed. All the same, he carefully slid his block out and the precariously tottering tower still stood. 

"So you didn’t go to college thinking of being a pilot, Sansa?” Lyanna asked next when it was Sansa's turn. Apparently, distraction was Lyanna's strategy when it came to her guest and Jenga. 

Jon looked up curiously at his mother’s question from where he’d been gathering up the last of his chili with the tail end of his sandwich. It was something they hadn’t discussed directly. They both knew they loved flying but not _why_ she’d decided to enter a male-dominated career. 

And Sansa’s reasons were something she’d rather share with just him first.

“No, not at all. I was in a design program but something changed my interest in it and made me realize I wanted to do something else. I was flying with my Uncle Benjen one day when I landed on flying. Would you mind if I got a bit more of the chili?” she asked as she carefully extracted her own block with satisfaction. 

“Absolutely not!” Lyanna cried with delight. “And if you want some ice cream later to put the fire out, it’s in the freezer.”

“Thank you.” 

The chili was delicious just like Jon had promised even though it differed from her mother’s own recipe. 

That was kind of like the thing with Jon Sansa was realizing. 

He was not always what she expected but she liked who he was. He liked some different things than her but, at heart, there were plenty of similarities they shared…like a competitive streak when it came to Jenga. 

There was comfort to be found in it, in their friendship, but they weren’t two old shoes with no secrets to unearth or mysteries to solve about each other either. There were always those sparks underscoring everything, weren’t there? She wasn’t just imagining that on his end, was she? They’d continued to sizzle and snap with promise since they'd first met. 

Being friends had been a wonderful place to start but when would being friends stop being enough? And would he make a move first? Or should she? She’d never made the first move before but that didn’t mean she couldn’t, did it?

_But maybe not under his mother’s roof no matter how much she seems to be in favor of coupling us up._

The Jenga Tower toppled, built again and toppled once more, Sansa excused herself claiming fatigue to allow mother and son a little time alone to talk.

A little later, Sansa had just pulled on her PJs when there was a quiet knock on the door. She knew it was him before she even opened it.

“Hey, I’m supposed to make sure the sheets are okay, that they don’t smell musty or anything from being stuck in the drawer and that you like your pillows. She’s got others if they don’t suit. She in no way suggested anything else because I told her I’d have to pop my own eardrums if I had to hear any more suggestions along those lines from my mother ever again.”

She started laughing. “The pillows are perfect and the sheets are super soft and fresh smelling. I am all set for a good night’s rest.”

“She’s good, Mom! You can rest easy now!” he hollered over his shoulder. “And please don’t come out until morning,” he muttered before turning back to face Sansa. “I’m wound up from Jenga and too much chili. I was wondering if you'd want to talk for a bit.

“Of course, we can,” she said, inviting him in. “There’s some things I’d like to tell you about anyway.”

* * *

She looked pretty as a picture with her hair brushed out, sitting on top of his mother’s ‘good’ sheets in her purple pajamas with toenails painted lilac. _If only this were a sleepover of the Naughty Shower Time Longings variety._

He offered the little snack cake again, waiting to see what she’d say. Her lips twitched again but no tears this time. She opened it and tore off a small bite for him, offering it up to his mouth. Neither of them said anything when he slowly took it from her, letting his lips graze her fingertips, but they could feel the electricity.

Ordinarily, he would've considered that the 'all clear for take-off' and he might’ve followed through with a kiss but that wasn’t why he’d come in here. He still wanted to know why she’d cried at the airport earlier. He didn't want to push her to talk if she didn't want to but she had promised she'd tell him and he wanted to know. 

She cleared her throat and sat back after he’d taken his bite and then tore off a bite of her own. “They’re my grandmother’s recipe, or were originally.”

“The Wolfie’s Lemoncake? It’s good.”

“Uh-huh. When the airline was small, like five to ten planes, my grandfather was always trying to think up ways to attract passengers and keep them, to make Direwolf a different experience than what just any carrier could give them. My grandmother came up with offering a home-baked treat instead of the usual bag of peanuts.”

“Nice idea. And she designed the direwolf cartoon on these as well as the airline logo?”

“Yep.”

“Sounds like your grandfather had a treasure of a business partner.”

“He did. He does. Her lemon cake was a favorite of the family’s and she came up with a miniature version she could bake several of at once which could be slipped in little paper bags and offered to passengers. This was years ago of course when things were much more hands-on. In time, she sold the recipe to a bakery who took over the mass production.”

She grinned self-consciously, running her fingers through her loose hair like a girl. Gods, she was so beautiful and he was dying to tell her how he felt but he could wait for the right moment. Right now, he wanted to hear what she had to say. 

“Grandma’s homemade ones are the best of course but I loved these, too. We always had a box around the house growing up. I’d ask for them in school lunches or as a treat after dinner. My siblings all got sick of them in time and wouldn’t touch them. Once we got a little older, they started wrapping them as presents on my name day as a gag. Called me Wolfie even. I'd stick my tongue out at them but I didn't really mind."

"Wolfie looks pretty cool to me."

"I’d thought these had went the way of the dinosaur after Manderly bought my grandpa out and the local bakery who’d made them went out of business."

"Until today?"

"No. I was offered one on a flight when I was flying home from university one day unexpectedly about two and a half years ago.”

Unexpectedly. He didn’t like the sound of that unexpectedly. “Was that when you decided to leave KLU?"

"Yeah."

"What happened to change your mind about your studies there?”

“It was a _who_ happened more than a what although I’d lost interest in my subject by then, too. He managed to spoil everything that meant something to me that way.”

Jon felt like cracking his knuckles at the implication, already thinking there must be someone out there who he’d enjoy seeing with his fist in their face even more than Harry, but simply asked, “ _Who_ happened then?”

She told him. Her first serious adult relationship and the guy was an abusive asshole. 

"We'd dated for four months before things changed. That was when he got his own place off campus and told me I could stay with him whenever. He said my roommate was a bitch and we'd have privacy. His parents had money for a nice apartment and the dorms were always noisy and cramped. It was like we were playing house but not the kind of house I grew up in. It started with little things. He'd lie about something and, if I called him out on it, he'd deny it, make it sound like I was nuts. Then, he'd get angry and shout at me. I'd get nervous and back away. He'd slam things, stalk around the room, using his advantage of size and strength to intimidate me. It took me a little while to realize he liked that, watching me be afraid of him. It escalated to more shouting and, when I shouted back, shoving."

"That fucker. Sansa, I'm so sorry."

“You're not the one who should be sorry, Jon. He got pissed at me one night and locked me out of the apartment. I didn't have shoes on. He told me to walk home. It was night. My dorm was three miles away, my phone was in the apartment with him and I had no shoes on but I should've. I begged him to let me in instead. I felt so stupid and embarrassed."

"You weren't stupid. You were scared of him and that was an awful position he put you in. He knew it."

"Yes, you're right. I was so scared of him by then. Everything seemed to hinge on whether or not Joffrey had had a good day or if I could please Joffrey. I had no real friends left down there by the time the shoves became slaps. The day I knew, when I realized I couldn’t stay with him anymore, I called my parents and asked for a plane ticket home. The semester hadn’t finished yet and I didn’t tell them why. I didn’t need to. It was like they knew from the tone of my voice.”

“I’ll bet they did.” 

“Later, my mom would tell me that they'd been thinking of coming down for a visit, that they'd both been concerned I was struggling in some way even though I'd never said a peep. Anyway, my connecting flight from Greywater Watch to Wintertown National that day was on Direwolf. I liked that. It had already been sold but it was like my grandpa was flying me home. The flight attendant offered me one of these," she said, looking down at the last bite of the lemoncake. 

"Did you cry?" _I would've comforted you if I'd been your flight attendant._

"Almost but I held it together. It probably sounds stupid. I didn't react dramatically like earlier. I just knew when I took the snack cake from her and took that first bite that I was going to be okay. That I wasn’t going to let him spoil things for me anymore. That probably doesn’t make much sense.”

“It does though. It makes perfect sense.”

“I was flying with my Uncle Benjen soon after that and it just kind of clicked then. I loved the sense of freedom, like a bird soaring high above. In the air, the bad things from the past couldn't touch me. It was just me and the controls and the big blue sky. I knew that was what I wanted to do with my life then. I guess you offering me the Wolfie's Lemoncake earlier kind of brought all that back...and made me realize something else that I wanted.”

"Something else?" he asked, leaning forward ever so slightly. 

"Yeah," she said, shyly. "Would you want to go fly with me tomorrow?"

"I'm already flying with you tomorrow," he said, puzzled. 

"Yeah but I've got something special in mind for us. We'd have to leave earlier to do it."

She held out the last bite of lemoncake for him. He wrapped his hand around hers and gave a loving squeeze. "We'll leave whenever you say and you can have that. I'll find some more of them for us. Take me flying tomorrow, Sansa." 

"I will but will you be my co-pilot?"

"I'd love that more than anything, Wolfie." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Jon gets caught up in the moment during his private flight with Sansa :)
> 
> Much thanks to those of you reading this!


	4. ...and Landings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, Harry turns into a full-fledged dick during a flight this chapter but the good variety of D is coming, too 😉. And this chapter is sooooo long 🙈.

“And you’re sure this isn't a problem, grandpa?” Jon heard Sansa ask as the three of them walked across the tarmac.

“For you, Little Red? Of course not. She likes going for a spin here and there. You’ve flown faster than this for the Watch, I’m sure, kid.”

“Yes sir, I have but she can haul more people than a fighter can.”

“She’s sure done that over the years. Lots of people to lots of places. You see the Direwolf logo up there? My wife designed that.”

“I know. Sansa told me.”

“She’s a real peach,” Rickard Stark said with a fond smile as he looked over one of Direwolf Air’s first passenger planes.

_Your wife or the airplane?_ Jon could’ve asked in jest. He had a feeling he knew the answer though. He glanced at Sansa who was beaming back at him. _A real peach._

It had required an early start to leave his mother’s house and get to Wintertown National by nine but his mother had been up before six making her Pumpkin Spice French Toast and brewing coffee.

_“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, Mom.”_

That had got him a scowl and ‘pfft!’ of dismissal just as he’d known it would while he was told to sit down and eat.

As they were leaving, Sansa had been hugged three times and admonished to come back anytime (and soon!) and they’d both left with full bellies. Between the chili the night before and the heavy breakfast, it was a good thing his stomach was never bothered by flying.

“We’ll only go up for forty-five minutes or so since I’ve got preflight check-in around eleven.”

“Sure thing. I’m gonna head into the Dispatch to see a few pals…and maybe see if I need to pass out some knuckle sandwiches to any of those old farts like Glover.” Rickard Stark’s granddaughter was laughing even as she chided him not to get into trouble. “You kids have fun up there. I’ll see you around, Jon.”

“Yeah, thanks. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Stark,” Jon said, shaking his hand.

He stood to the side as Sansa hugged her grandfather once more and sent her love to her grandmother. Meanwhile, he felt as giddy as a kid heading on a field trip to the zoo or something. He let his hand trail reverently along the wing tip of the DHC-6 Twin Otter.

“I can’t believe this is just sitting here.”

“Yeah, it’s part of the airport’s little historical collection. Grandpa lets them have it but they’ll let him use it when he wants. So, you ready to fly?”

“Always.”

It was true. He’d not been at the controls of an airplane in months now and that last time he’d paid for the privilege of flying a little crop-duster owned by an acquaintance. 

But more than that, he wanted to fly with Sansa. He wanted to share that experience with just her and he loved her all the more for arranging this after their talk last night.

The old bird was a little musty smelling inside, the decades-old funk of dust and various passengers over the years lingering despite the best cleaning efforts and air-freshening products.

Up in the cockpit though, she had everything they needed.

“Thank you for this,” he murmured as he started familiarizing himself with the equipment.

“I’m glad I was able to do it.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I like what I’m doing, more than I’d ever thought I would but…”

“This is where your heart is. I get it. You belong up here in the cockpit, Jon. Someday, you’re going to fly for Direwolf.”

Gods, he hoped she was right.

The hum of the twin propellers warming up, the ‘all clear’ from the tower and then that slow acceleration down the runway. No, it couldn't take off like a jet fighter but it didn't need to either. Jon Snow was flying. You couldn't wipe the smile off his face. 

“And we have lift-off,” Sansa said from his side.

He glanced over from his co-pilot seat at her wry grin as she stared out at that big blue horizon ahead of them. The sun’s reflection was glinting off her red hair, turning it to a fluid stream of flame. She was fucking glorious and his whole heart seemed to be expanding to the fill his ribcage. He couldn't have stopped the words from spilling from his lips in that moment. 

“I love you.”

Her head whipped from the sea of blue before them and those cerulean blue eyes were meeting his. He’d said that out loud. It wasn’t the exact way he’d planned on saying it but it had felt right and he meant it.

He could see the slight crease between her eyes forming and a moment of puzzlement as she took in his words.

“It’s true. I mean it. I've fallen in love with you, my wonderful friend, although I think I was half on the brink of it from the day we met. I love you, Sansa.”

For several seconds, she just blinked at him. Shit. Had he just fucked up?

The thrill of flying had brought all his feelings to a head and he’d uttered those three little words without second-guessing or…

“I love you, too.”

_Whoosh_. That was the best sound effect he could use to explain what his heart and lungs felt with her reply. He was carried away in the moment but she was right there with him. She loved him, too. _Whoosh_.

He reached across for her hand, squeezing it in his when she gave it. “I’d really love to kiss you but I want to kiss you properly especially the first time…and we’re kind of flying a plane at the moment. Maybe I should’ve thought that through a bit more.”

She laughed and shook her head at him. “When we get her back down on the ground, I’ll be waiting for that proper kiss, Jon Snow. Your mother has mentioned your laser-focus when you want to achieve an objective.”

“She's not wrong about that. Can I take you out tonight? I want to take you out somewhere, Sansa, you and me.”

“I'd love that but you can take me out another night. We’ve been away from home and I’m sure our dogs miss us. How about we dine in at your place instead tonight?”

“At my place,” he repeated, damned close to stuttering like an excited boy again. Dinner at home with Sansa and lots of kisses. Maybe more even but he would never push. “Yeah, that’d be perfect.” He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it once before they returned to the controls.

Their flight over Winterfell and the Wolf’s Wood was lovely though mostly quiet, the gravity of the moment and their admittances weighing heavily on them both. He loved getting to fly and sitting by her side up here but, right now, he couldn’t wait to land.

A couple of long, circular passes, a few exchanged comments over technical things or snow on a hilltop below and the large flock of geese they spied. Then, it was time to land again.

Working in sync, they brought that bird safely back down to earth. After touch down, there would be work to do to get the plane back where it belonged afterwards. The groundcrew were already heading their way. They had a flight taking off in an hour or so as well.

But first...

“Sansa…” he croaked with neediness. 

She wasted no time. She unbuckled and was in his lap there in the cockpit of her grandfather’s old airplane. Was it the most comfortable seat in the world? Hell no. That bird wasn't all that big but they made it work and Jon would swear it was perfect with her sitting on top of him, their eyes locked on each other.

She bit at her plump bottom lip, a wide grin starting to form. “When I told you last night how the lemoncake you offered me made me realize something else I wanted…”

“Yeah?” he said huskily as his fingertips skimmed her waist.

“This is what I meant.”

She leaned forward as he tipped his head back to meet her, their lips brushing against each other gingerly at first. One graze, two…and another.

Then, the dam broke and passion flared.

He cupped her face with one hand, the other arm circling around her waist, pulling her closer. He kissed her with nearly bruising force but she was kissing him the same. He licked the seam of her mouth and she readily opened for him, their tongues meeting, thankfully flavored with pumpkin spice more than onion chili.

She tried to adjust her seating in his lap, sending a thunderbolt of longing racing throughout his body and making him moan. Their teeth clacked together in their eagerness. They laughed and then immediately dove back into kissing some more.

Her hands were grasping at his shoulders, bunching up the leather of his jacket. He wished they had less clothes on. His cock was hard in his jeans and she was so soft and warm in his lap. He wanted to kiss her all over.

She made little mewling sounds as he nipped at her earlobe and he dreamt of making her chant his name. The day was cold but the sun was shining and the cockpit of the old plane was rapidly heating up. Jon absently wondered if they could steam the windows up with a little more effort. The folks in the tower could make all the assumptions they wanted. 

But a loud sound from below and a squawk coming through the comm system was going to bring this make-out session to a halt. Gods, he wished they didn’t have another plane to catch at the moment. He wished they were home in White Harbor already. Even if they were back at his mother’s, he’d be more than tempted to rumple those good sheets (and wash them later).

As Sansa pulled back from their final kiss, her eyelids fluttering open again and her chest heaving the same as his own was, Jon saw the most unexpected sight. The sun was reflecting off the nose of another plane and bouncing through the windshield behind her. It would be blinding him except she blocked most of it. And in that moment, it was like Sansa had wings, feathery wings of light sprouting from her shoulders, his winged wolf girl who he adored.

* * *

_“I've fallen in love with you, my wonderful friend, although I think I was half on the brink of it from the day we met.”_

The whole flight from Winterfell to Widow’s Watch his words and his kisses were always on her mind. She’d say she was on autopilot except she’d been piloting a plane and she absolutely had to have her mind focused on that task for the safety of everyone. Still, her mind hadn’t ever let Jon Snow slip completely away. 

Unfortunately, foul weather had been waiting for them along the coast. Sleet, lightening and winds but the tower gave the ‘all clear’ after a brief delay. This wasn’t the little Twin Otter her and Jon had flown earlier. This bird could soar along in these conditions provided they didn’t deteriorate too much.

The Narrow Sea was raging this evening and the skies above weren’t much better as Sansa took the jet up on the second leg of its journey after refueling, safety checks and exchanging some of the passengers. Widow’s Watch to White Harbor would be quite a test, the most harrowing conditions she’d experienced as a pilot. 

_If only that wasn’t the only test…_

“I still say you should divert and go the more direct route,” Harry grumbled from beside her. 

He’d been a bitter pill all day. After his stupid come-on last night, she’d spied him shooting daggers over his shoulder at her and Jon as they'd been exiting the tunnel at Cerwyn-Black Airport but thought little of it because Jon had surprised her with the Wolfie’s Lemoncake. 

Then, Harry had flat-out asked why she’d not stayed at the hotel last night with the other layover crew. When she’d said they’d visited Jon’s mother, his mouth had snapped shut. He already knew Jon had taken her home last weekend from The Wolf’s Den and made his assumptions known to everyone else according to Myranda. Why did he care? Some guys really thought they were the gods’ gift and couldn’t get why a woman might prefer someone other than them, didn’t they? 

_And why must he be such a pain in the ass? Oh, to have Qhorin here instead…_

“I’m not diverting from the planned route. The more direct one would expose us to more of the Bite. The conditions at sea are dangerous. We’re safer this way.”

“We’d be there sooner and make up the delay.”

“The delay was unavoidable with the conditions. And we’re…”

Sansa decided to stop arguing as the cabin door opened. She looked over her shoulder to see Jon bringing her tea…and a lemoncake. 

“Your coffee, Harry.”

Part of her detested that Jon was, more or less, waiting on them when he had more hours at the stick than either one of them. Flying with him today, she’d seen how his eyes had been alive with it. He loved flying. He belonged up here in the cabin just like she’d told him. And he knew his stuff. He had a natural touch. 

However, she did admire how he handled himself onboard as a flight attendant which was very much a vital part of any airline. She didn’t think Jon was born to customer service by any means but he could do it, conscientiously, compassionately and correctly. 

Harry didn’t even acknowledge Jon. He just kept griping about how skimming the Bite would be faster. “I mean, this is your what? Third flight?”

She started to argue but hesitated because it was technically her third flight as captain for Direwolf. 

Also, Harry was getting louder. She didn’t even have to look to know that Jon was tensing up behind them. His concern for her was appreciated but she was the captain and he didn’t need to get himself in trouble. She needed to shake off the nervousness Harry’s behavior brought up. That was behind her. She couldn’t let a man being loud rattle her up here. 

"I'm sure _you_ weren't afraid to fly over the Bite in some rain, were you, Jon?"

"It's a bit more than rain out there tonight, Harry. And, I flew a few missions in foul weather but I wasn't hauling eighty civilians with me who were on their way to grandma's house or on business trips." 

She glanced down at the Wolfie cake. Jon had playfully called her that last night but maybe there was part of her which could be a wolf. 

“I’ve already told you we’re taking the planned route. Now, zip it and sip your coffee, Harry. Thank you, Jon. We’re good up here.”

She glanced back at him one last time and got a grin. “You bet…and you’re right,” he said directly to her. 

She turned back around, both of them ignoring Harry’s huff. She would focus on flying and Jon could go back to keeping passengers calm. With the weather, plenty of them would be getting spooked. 

* * *

“All good?” Myranda asked as he rejoined her behind the curtain. 

“Yeah.” Weather was shitty but he’d flown in worse. He hoped Sansa could actually enjoy her lemoncake and tea. “Harry’s being a dipshit.”

“Big surprise. You okay?” He was so glad Myranda was on this flight. He kind of needed the ear to bend. 

“A little worried about her. I know I shouldn’t be. She’s got this but the conditions would add to the headaches for any pilot and I don’t like Harry arguing with her over the route.”

“He was arguing with her about the route?”

“Uh huh.” 

“That’s set by WAF. What’s he trying to prove?”

“That Harry knows best apparently.” Myranda looked worried. “What?”

“Look, it’s been kept hush-hush because Harry’s family has connections and it would’ve been bad PR for the airline but there was an incident last year in the cockpit between him and another pilot.”

“What kind of incident?”

“They got into a disagreement over some decision, don’t ask me what, and Harry insisted he knew better. Punches wound up getting thrown.”

“Holy shit. Harry?”

“That’s what I heard. Marq Piper, the other pilot, threw the first punch. He was always a hot head although plenty of people said he was probably goaded past him limit. Harry got grounded for several weeks afterwards and they put him in the back office to work while the matter was hushed up.”

“And _he’s_ making noise about _my_ record?”

“Yeah, bit of irony there.”

“He’d better not try anything like that with Sansa or I’ll…”

“Careful, Sparky. I don’t think he’d ever get physical with Sansa and don’t mess up things for yourself.”

“He’d just better sit there and drink his damn coffee.”

* * *

“Great. Just fucking great.”

Sansa silently counted to ten, wondering if her eyeballs might roll out of her head soon from Harry’s nonsense, and picked up the speaker.

_“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We’ve just received word that we’re still in a holding pattern at this time but will hopefully be landing soon. Please, remain in your seats unless otherwise instructed by our crew.”_

Sansa could well imagine the groans that greeted her announcement. Like everyone else, she wanted to land and head to her destination. 

_Especially since my destination is Jon’s place. Whatever will we do there?_

She wasn’t 100% sure yet. She had a pretty good idea but right now, the tension of the flight was on her.

“If you’d diverted like I told you to, we would’ve been here earlier without getting in the traffic jam.”

“If I’d followed your _suggestion_ which was entirely up to me since _I_ am the captain here, we might’ve been in danger. Radar shows the storm was worse at sea. We’re safe and nearly home.” 

Delayed flights and weather had caused a back-up on the runways at White Harbor International. They were presently circling the city several thousands of feet above it. The weather had actually improved but not the speed that things moved at nor Harry’s temper. 

"If you were scared of some thunder, I could've taken over."

"I'm not scared of thunder."

“Could’ve landed twenty minutes ago.”

“Not unless we were going to land on top of someone else. Relax, Harry. You got a hot date?” she said, hoping a jest might put him more at ease.

“No, do you?!” he snapped. “Guess it wouldn’t matter since he’s up here to fetch your tea whenever. Your family connections and you're hot for a fucking felon. Shame really.” 

"He's not a felon!"

"Sure thing, Missile Sniffer," he muttered. 

Sansa's mouth fell open and promptly closed again. She decided against replying to the insult. Jon's charge had not been a felony and she was not some pathetic top gun groupie. Old fly boys bullshit was one thing but there were fucking limits to what he could get away with saying. 

She just wished his behavior wouldn't make her hands tremble. She knew what was triggering it. She’d say something to Wylla tomorrow. She did not want to fly with Harry ever again if it could be helped at all. For now, they were stuck together a little longer. 

Technically, she could land this plane without a co-pilot but the dual pilot system was in place for good reason. It protected the crew and its passengers (and the airlines) so that if something unexpected happened to the pilot, some other qualified person could step in. 

The cabin door opened behind them. Before Sansa could turn and see if it was Jon or another flight attendant, Harry was shouting. “She doesn’t need any more fucking tea!”

“Well, good because I didn’t bring her any,” Myranda bit back. “Sansa, we wanted to let you know we’ve got an elderly gentleman in the back who’s experiencing some chest pains. Jon and Chatana are working with him but I thought you’d want to inform the tower. Maybe it’ll get us bumped up in line.”

“Oh yes, of course. Thank you, Myranda.”

She was preparing to call in when Harry said, “Looks like you’ve killed a passenger following the rules like a good little girl, huh?”

“Shut up, Harry."

"Typical woman pilot, scaredy mouse at the stick but never question her decisions."

"What the...there was no way to predict…you know what? I’m done explaining anything to you. It’s a waste of time. I will be having a discussion with HR though. Tower, this is Flight-”

She didn’t get to finish her call. Harry had reached over and yanked her headset off, pulling her hair in the process. She could only stare at him in shock. He’d grabbed at her. He’d technically committed assault. He’d taken the comm set and he was trying to take charge like this and because why? Why would he do that?! 

“Harry, what the fuck?!” she heard Myranda gasp. 

Sansa punched the controls to silence him before he could call the tower himself from his headset and grabbed hers back. 

He reached towards her again but she stared him down, fire in her eyes and ice in her veins. “Do not make that call. Do not touch anything up here. Do not speak to me or touch me ever again. I am only going to say this one time. What you just did is unacceptable and will be remembered but right now I have a more important job to do. So, you can sit there quietly or remove yourself from my cockpit or I'll have your ass removed, got it?” 

He glared at her. She drew a deep breath and did her damnedest to pretend she was not frightened by his glare. And she wasn’t, not really. Also, his glare was soon slipping. Adrenaline or testosterone or whatever that was, was quickly burning off and he was realizing the enormity of his actions. 

“Wait, Jon…”

It was Myranda who had spoken. Sansa could see him out of the corner of her eye in the doorway. Myranda had an arm around his waist. He’d heard Myranda’s earlier exclamation and come up here likely ready to kick Harry’s ass. He didn’t need to be kicking anyone’s ass. He should be a pilot, not Harry. 

“How’s our passenger, Jon?” Sansa asked in a tone so smooth she surprised herself. 

“Uh…he’s conscious, alert but still clutching his chest. Could be his ticker but could be anxiety. Wife’s pretty frantic and it’s distressing the other passengers. Do you need me to…”

Sansa silenced him with a wave and returned her attention to making her call. “My apologies, Tower. This is Flight DA-353. We have a passenger onboard in medical distress and are requesting immediate clearance for a landing and emergency services personnel to be dispatched. Do you copy?”

_“We copy, DA-353. Go ahead and circle back this way and we’ll have you a lane cleared shortly.”_

Harry got up from his seat and she was pleased she’d not flinched when he did. He stalked to the back of the cabin and took the jumpseat with his arms folded across his chest.

_Yeah, buddy. You fucked up big time just now._

That could be dealt with later. 

“Myranda, will you give me an update on the passenger? Jon, do you mind staying up here?” She didn’t think Harry was going to do anything now but she’d be able to turn her back on him with less fear if someone else was present. 

“Sure thing, captain,” they both replied. 

Jon took the seat Harry had just vacated and gave her a questioning look. She nodded in return.

“You got this, Wolfie,” he murmured when the tower called back with instructions.

“Yes, I do.” 

* * *

Two snouts were shoving their way through the crack in the doorway before he could even remove his key from the lock. He adjusted his overnight bag and balanced the pizza on his hip while trying to nudge the door open. 

“Hang on, babies. We’re home. Back up, back up.”

Jon glanced over his shoulder at Sansa who was holding her own bag and the bottle of wine they'd picked up. He was still anxious for her after such a harrowing in-flight experience but she had been cool as a cucumber. And now, she was grinning like a giddy girl at the dogs. 

“We missed you both!” she chirped as they made it into his apartment at last.

A safe landing after a rough flight. The old man with chest pains had been transported to a nearby hospital where they’d already received a report, bad flare up of anxiety and not his heart with a thankfully positive prognosis. 

They loved on their dogs for a few minutes, getting thoroughly tail-thwacked, after setting down the food and their things. 

Relief washed over Jon like he couldn’t believe Travel was part of the job but it could get wearing. It was good to come home again. Having Sansa with him really made this apartment feel like a home. They were home and she was here with him. Even better, she loved him and he loved her. 

Sansa seemed to know what he was thinking. She looked up from where she was kneeling next to Lady and gave him a smile, shoving some stray hair back out of her face which had come loose from her bun during the in-flight tussle he'd missed. Harry was owed a split lip. If it had been Jon in the cockpit instead of Myranda, there was a good chance that would've happened. 

“You alright?”

“I am, I promise.”

“You were amazing up there.”

“Thank you. Thanks for being there by my side, too.”

After they’d landed, Sansa had made a phone call to Wylla while Harry was making his own. Whoever Harry’s family connections were, Jon doubted they’d be much help to him now. _Especially if Rickard Stark ever hears about it_. Wylla had already told Sansa that Harry would be suspended pending the investigation but it was extremely likely he’d be fired. Jon thought Harry had probably already known it by the defeated look in his eye when they’d exited the flight. 

_He still would’ve looked better with my fist in his mouth._

All the same, he knew Sansa would not want him to do that and he didn’t want to violate probation over a piece of shit like Harry. He wanted to fly for Direwolf someday, maybe next to the woman he loved if he was lucky. And his lady had handled herself just fine on her own without any punches getting thrown. 

“I guess we should get to eating this,” she said uncertainly as she walked over to the kitchen counter where he'd sat the pizza. 

“We could…or it could wait if you want.”

He could see the way her lips twitched into a smirk, could almost hear the giggle she was suppressing. “I will want to eat… _eventually.”_

Eventually but not yet. “Me, too.” He moved towards her, stopping so their bodies almost touched. “Cold pizza is good or it could be heated up later.”

“Yeah later,” she said, her voice hitching as he traced a finger down the nape of her neck.

He pressed one soft kiss to a faint red mark there. “Does it hurt?”

“Yanked out a few hairs. Headset might’ve scraped my neck.” 

“His mouth definitely needs to meet my fist next time I lay eyes on him.”

She swayed into him. “I don’t want you in trouble.”

“I know. I don’t want to be in any more trouble than I already am but I’ll tell you right now, Sansa…I’d do damn near anything for you.”

Her pupils were blown when she met his eyes. “I know. Jon, I don’t want to eat pizza yet.”

“Oh yeah? What do you want?”

“You.”

“Are you going to stay the night with me?” She was staring at his mouth now as she nodded and, _fuck_ , he wanted to kiss her. But he was going to make something clear first. “And if you want to stay, I want you to know we can do whatever you want, whatever you’re comfortable with. We can play Jenga and hang out with the dogs if you want. If you want to sleep over here but not with me, I’ll sleep on the couch. I know we just said how we felt this mor-”

“I don’t want Jenga, Jon. I want you...and you're not sleeping on the couch.”

“Thank gods.”

He pulled her close then, blood rushing to his groin already and any nervous hesitation flying away. She sighed his name and he knew he was such a goner for her. He tilted his head and leaned into her, caging her between the kitchen counter and his body, pressing their lips together, easing his tongue in her mouth to lick at her. He let his free hand brush against her soft cheek, his thumb tracing her jaw. His eyes met Sansa’s, half-lidded with arousal. The hand at her waist tightened and she was grasping at his leather jacket, shoving it over his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a flump. 

The dogs danced around their legs excitedly. They were curious dogs. This wasn't any of their business right now either.

“We’d better take this to the bedroom.”

She nodded and then shrieked when he lifted her up in his arms. He ceased kissing her long enough to rasp, “Hold on.”

Her legs were dangling and her arms were clasped around his neck as he made his way to the bedroom. Sansa gazed at him, eyes bright with desire and happiness. She went back to kissing him on his cheeks and then his lips. The overhead light clicked on but he couldn’t say who had done that. He was the one to close and lock the door behind them though. An annoyed ruff came through from the other side. _Yes, we'll spend extra time at the dog park tomorrow and give you both lots of cuddles later to make up for it._

Jon set her down on her feet again and their uniforms were quickly littering the floor. Sansa went to unclasp her pretty blue bra and he stopped her. He could see that her nipples were already hard, teasing him through the thin fabric. Jon wanted to savor his first glimpse.

“Can I?” He waited for her nod and slowly reached behind her to unfasten the bra. “You’re perfect.” He moved his palm up her stomach to feel the weight of her breast in his hand, brushing his thumb across her nipple.

“No, I’m not.”

He looked up from her breasts to find Sansa staring at him. “Perfect for me.”

A gentle smile and she started to map his chest with her hands, lightly pulling at the dark curls that disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxers before moving back up to his shoulders and then back down again.

Sansa started tugging at that waistband, glancing up at him questioningly. He helped her and then helped with her panties. She easily stepped out of hers but he sat down on the bed to kick his boxers off his ankle and across the room. Quickly, Sansa straddled his waist, a minx-like grin. He feel her soft heat against his straining cock.

Jon gazed up at her in adoration, wishing he was better at romance. Sansa deserved that.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, her fingernails lightly raking the base of his skull, tickling his scalp. 

“I’m thinking how lucky I am to have had that interview at Direwolf at the same time as you. Damn glad we weren't gunning for the same job and both got hired, too. I’m thinking I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything at all, not even my wings. I'm thinking I love you because I do.”

Sansa’s lips quivered with emotion. “I love you, too.” 

They both lunged for each other then, their mouths clashing together hungrily. Jon put his arms around her and turned their bodies so Sansa lay under him.

They’d had a long day but the night was just as long and he meant to cherish every minute of it and every second of Sansa.

* * *

Okay, Sansa already knew that Jon was not what one would describe as a shy or self-effacing man. Yes, he could be reserved and even standoffish with those he disliked or didn’t know well. But he was a pilot. He’d been a fighter pilot in the Watch. He had his moments of vulnerability around her but he had plenty of cocksure attitude when he knew what he was about. 

So, Sansa hadn’t expected a septon in the bedroom. And, gods be good, Jon Snow was no septon in the bedroom.

Their pizza was still sitting on his countertop and he seemed determined to devour her instead. She was happy to be devoured.

He’d suckled at her breasts until the skin had started to turn red from his beard and she had to beg for mercy. He’d rolled her to her belly, his lips raining kisses along her spine until he found her earlobe. He sucked at the tender spot under it just so, the feeling both ticklish and sensual.

“Jon…” she whimpered when his lips left that spot.

“Spread your legs for me,” he commanded. 

He was already back down at the other end of the bed, his teeth nipping at an ass cheek. He helped her roll to her back again, brushing her hair back with a free hand as he looked down at her. 

She flushed as she felt his hot hands circling her ankles. This was not an act she’d experienced much pleasure with in the past. One partner hadn’t cared enough to learn what he was supposed to be doing down there when he bothered at all and the other had been more perfunctory than anything with his efforts. She had a feeling that wouldn’t be the way with Jon. 

“Wider,” he husked, his mouth against the inside of her knee, nipping her tender skin and muffling his voice. 

She squirmed some more but did exactly as he said. “Your beard tickles.”

“Shall I shave?”

“No!” He chuckled at her vehement reply. She crooked her finger and motioned him towards her. “Are you coming up here?”

“I am later. I’m not done here yet. Haven’t even sucked on your toes yet.” Jon kissed her ankle and she yelped to withdraw it, making him laugh more fully. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’”

“My feet might stink.”

“Impossible.” 

Sansa glanced down between them, both of their bodies bare. He had a beautiful body and she knew a lot of people would say she did but she had a hard time believing it after…

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Sansa. Like a gods-damn ember burning brightly in my bed.”

How did he just know what to say? Her momentary doubt and discomfort faded away to nothing. 

“I’m going to kiss you somewhere other than your feet now.” His hands slid slowly up her thighs. “Is that okay?” She nodded numbly. “You sure?” 

“I’m sure,” she said, finding her voice. “No one’s…I’ve never gotten off like this.” She felt embarrassed admitting it. 

He wasn’t going to let her feel embarrassed. He licked his lips, those dark eyes devilish when he said, “Well, that’s a shame but someone’s going to tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, giggling at his assurance.

“I’m better at this than Jenga.”

“Oh my. That's saying something, mister. Laser-focused, huh?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He was not blowing smoke, that's for sure. 

Tortuously slow and purposeful, he moved between her legs, his shoulders opening her up for him. She felt his hot breath down there before he kissed her lightly once and then dove in. He licked her folds, exploring before settling at her clit, circling it over and over with his tongue.

He scooped his arms under her ass, heaving her towards him, bringing her pussy right to his face. His hands rested at her hips as his kisses and licks changed into suckling. He’d lap at her sex and then tease her clit again, listening to her moans and taking his cues from her body’s reaction. 

“Cum for me, Sansa,” he murmured when he knew she was close. Her eyelids slid shut, her toes curling as she had both of her hands buried in his hair. 

After the crest of her orgasm, as she began to glide back down to earth, a feather-soft landing, she found him grinning at her smugly.

“Yeah, you’re better at that than Jenga.”

“Good to know. You still tense from earlier?”

“I…” She thought about his question and started laughing. “Was I tense earlier?”

Of course, she had been but all of that had melted away. Jon had left her blissed out and boneless…and they were not done yet. 

“I want you to come up here now,” she told him, a little authority of her own creeping into her tone. 

He eagerly complied. She rubbed her hands all over his back, loving the warmth of his smooth skin and the weight of him on her. She wrapped her legs around his hips. He was giving her a cat-who-ate-the-canary grin. His lips were still glistening from her sex and he lowered her mouth to hers.

“Taste that?” Flustered, she nodded. “That’s you and you taste divine, Sansa.” 

“I’m glad you think so especially if that means you’ll do that again.”

“Every chance I get.”

Sansa moved her hand down between their bodies, allowing herself to do her own exploring. He gladly let her. His stomach was firm and his chest broad. If she was perfect for him, he was perfect for her.

She let her hand wander lower, feeling the springy black curls and then his hard, thick length. 

A quiet groan from him but he was intent on running his fingers through her hair even more. “I’m trying to think up something romantic to say.” His voice was rough but his eyes showed that hint of vulnerability again. She loved every aspect of him, his assurances and his weaknesses. They gave each other whatever strength the other needed when they needed it, she thought. 

“You already said all the right things when you told me you loved me earlier. I don’t need sonnets, Jon. I just need you.”

She meant it. She’d gladly take Jon’s honesty, kindness and playfulness over pretty words and false hearts any day. 

His expression grew warmer, less unsure as she cupped his cheek. “I’m going to make love to you now.”

“You’d better,” she teased, loving the laugh that drew out of him from deep in his chest.

He disappeared for less than a minute, every second cold and vacant without him holding her, and returned with an unopened box of condoms. He sat them down on the nightstand and she felt her belly swooping in anticipation when he drew one out and rolled it down his erection. 

“It’s been a while. Don’t judge me too harshly if I…”

“You think I’m not eager, too?” She bucked her hips against him to prove it. 

They shared a laugh and those were the last words spoken for a spell. It was eyes locked on eyes, hands caressing, kisses and gasps and bodies fitting together. 

One thrust and he filled her. She put her arms around his neck, both grunting softly as they grew used to each other. 

He kissed her tenderly as he started to move, pulling out almost completely before plunging back in. His eyes were busy watching her. Hers felt so heavy, the ecstasy from earlier making a return. 

He kept his thrusts slow and steady, watching her, and then settled into a rhythm which she matched. He wanted her to find pleasure in it with him, she knew. Their hips bucked together and Jon grunted into her ear with every thrust. For a first time together, they were quite marvelous if she did say so herself. 

His hips continued to snap in time, the force increasing, enough to start driving her up the bed. He was getting more desperate. He wanted her to cum again and she was so close…but he was closer. 

His thrusts turned frantic, his eyelids closing as he sought his release. She grabbed his hips, slamming up into him, desperately wanting to encourage him. She started to cry his name, pushing him on and realizing it was bringing her closer again. 

When Jon grunted her name once more and shuddered, she could feel him pulsing into her and it tipped her over the edge again. She shamelessly continued bucking into him as his thrusts became irregular. It did not matter. She chased that second release down with abandon, coming harder than she’d ever thought possible.

She blinked up at him languidly when he collapsed. He immediately started to move but she twined her arms and legs around him tighter. 

“No, no. Stay here like this, please,” she said, her voice hoarse.

He pushed her hair back again, kissed the tip of her nose. “Fucking hell…Sansa, I’m never leaving.”

On cue, there was a bark from outside the bedroom. 

“Except to feed and walk them occasionally.”

He rolled over then and pulled her with him, holding her so safe and secure. She loved it. She loved him and everything about this. Their bodies still slick with sweat, they laid like that for a good while before finally rising to see to their poor dogs.

“We have neglected them horribly,” she said, guiltily. 

“We’ve been punished for it, too,” Jon told her grimly as they exited the bedroom at last. “I guess that serves us right.” 

Their meat-lovers pizza had been pulled off the counter and nearly consumed. 

Both dogs sat at attention as if nothing was amiss, licking their chomps and wagging their tails. 

Sansa shook her head at the pair of them and then pulled out her phone. “Alright then, we've got wine still. What are we ordering to go with it?” He opened his mouth and she quickly added, “Nothing with onions tonight.”

* * *

**Thirteen Months Later**

He’d had the red-eye from Skagos last night. Myranda had needed someone to fill in for her and he'd happily taken his pregnant friend's place. Ethan and her had got on pretty well after their dance at The Wolf's Den. Their subsequent hooking up over the following months had led to a surprise at last but neither one of them regretted it. They were even talking wedding bells maybe after the baby came along. 

As a result of his subbing in for Myranda though, Jon had only tumbled into bed at half past nine this morning. And of course, he'd felt a pressing need to wake up Sansa when he had. 

His face scrunched up as the bedroom grew brighter from the blinds being opened. He refused to open his eyes. It was probably afternoon already but it felt too damn early for anything. 

He felt her cool hand at his brow. He was just cognizant enough to know she was wearing the ring. “Jon?” 

“Five more minutes,” he grumbled, pulling her pillow over his eyes. 

He got poked in the ribs for that. “Come on. Get up. I've let you sleep as long as possible.” 

He did his best impression of a dead man. 

“Jon Snow, you’ve got to get up. I’m not your mother but you…”

“Thank gods for that. Come here.”

A surprised yelp from his quick grab and tug and then laughter as she tumbled down onto the bed beside him. 

She brushed his hair back again but more tenderly. This time he opened his eyes to see the wonderous sight that had greeted him nearly every morning (or early afternoon in this case) the past year, Sansa Stark smiling at him. Gods, she was beautiful. He kissed her palm, smiling right back at her knowing he probably resembled something the cat had drug in. 

“Jon, we’ve got to get up. Knowing your mother, she'll be…”

**_*knock, knock, knock*_ **

“Shit.” 

They both grinned at each other while rolling their eyes in mock exasperation. Lyanna Snow was never early for anything…except for when it came to visiting her son and his fiancée. She was even threatening to move to White Harbor. Honestly, Jon wouldn’t mind one bit if she did. _But maybe not here precisely._

They’d bought a small house together to go along with the engagement ring he’d given Sansa on the one-year anniversary of their first kiss.

_More than a first kiss._ The day of that first kiss was a very memorable one obviously. Pumpkin Spice French Toast to start the day and stolen pizza which had led to burgers that night...with no onions. 

A first flight together in her granddad's Twin Otter and a last flight for Harry Hardyng with Direwolf. He'd lost his job and his commercial license after the incident with Sansa. And yeah, he'd got that split lip he was owed one night a few months later when he'd come creeping around The Wolf's Dean. Not from Jon regrettably but from Qhorin. Harry had thrown the first punch but Qhorin had thrown the last one, the one which had made contact. Harry's chiseled jaw had been made of glass apparently and not a soul present had felt sorry for the son of a bitch.

Anyway, back to that day. It had found Jon and Sansa making love for the first time by the end of it with many, many nights of that to follow. 

So yeah, it was a hell of a day. 

At the moment, Jon was regretting that his mother’s early arrival meant he had to get his ass up and in the shower and that their plans meant no lying in bed with Sansa all afternoon. Still, it would be a good day.

The dogs were barking excitedly, knowing Grammy was here to spoil them. Jon would say that it would be worse when him and Sansa had kids someday but he couldn’t picture how Lyanna could spoil anything or anyone more than she already spoiled their dogs…not that they weren’t just as bad. 

“Hey, Mom. _Oof!”_

A squeezing hug before the rapid tide of chatter, greeting Sansa and the dogs, hugging everyone at least twice, telling him he looked like death warmed over and that he smelled as she plucked at the ratty tee he’d worn to bed before passing him a cake container. 

“You brought a cake all the way from Cerwyn? You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s a special occasion. Your housewarming party and a major milestone anniversary. Now, I’m not sure how it fared on the car ride.”

“We could’ve got you a flight, Mom.”

His mother looked at him with pity as Sansa snickered in the background. “But then I couldn’t have brought the cake, could I? Sansa, I stopped at the market on the way here if you don’t mind me using your kitchen. I figured some chili might be welcome later.”

“Of course, Lyanna. We love your chili and Jenga is all set. Make yourself at home.”

Jon was dismissed at that point, urged to shower for gods’ sake. His probation had been completed a few weeks ago and his record expunged. He’d received his commercial pilot’s license last week. Wylla had already said they'd start sending him up with Qhorin soon. He was excited about it but he’d miss being an attendant in a way, too. Myranda had already warned him not to get too cocky over being a pilot again. However, the thoughts of getting to fly beside Sansa far outweighed his regrets of moving on in his career.

An hour later, Jon was presentable and they bid his mother and the dogs goodbye before driving to the airport, saying they’d return in a few hours with the rest of the party.

Thanks to her grandfather and Mr. Manderly’s help, the Twin Otter was fueled up and waiting along with their passengers. A little private flight for Lyarra and Rickard Stark, Sansa's parents and some of their oldest friends to celebrate the older couple's 50th wedding anniversary.

Jon liked all of his future in-laws very well, had visited them with Sansa more than once already in Winterfell, and was pleased that they got along so well with his mother. 

Tonight, the family would gather at Jon and Sansa’s new home for food and fun but today they were going for a little air tour down to Old Castle and back where Lyarra and Rickard had met fifty-two years ago on a blind date.

“And we've got two young lovebirds acting as the pilots for this old fogey and his peach of a gal,” Rickard told the group as they approached. 

The pair of them blushed like kids over the ‘ooh and ahh’s’ of the older folks while Sansa’s mother was busy hugging them and asking if Lyanna needed her to pick up anything from the store.

“We’ll call her later, Mom. Let me take you for a spin today.”

Her mother looked up at the Twin Otter with a little trepidation but nodded and climbed aboard with her husband offering a hand. The couple of honor were already seated with Lyarra having a window seat and Rickard beside her holding her hand. Coffee, tea and Wolfie’s lemoncakes were waiting to be dispersed later with Catelyn insisting she still remembered how to do it and Ned offering to help. Jon wouldn’t be serving in that role today. 

He took his seat next to Sansa, acting as her co-pilot, as they went through their preparations for take-off on the unusually bright and sunny winter’s day.

“I think we’re ready,” Sansa said as the twin propellers were humming outside. 

He kissed her hand. “I know we are.”

She held up the intercom, offering it to him. “You want to do the honors?”

“Gladly.” He took the speaker to address their passengers. _“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your co-captain speaking…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure what I may do with this series next or when but I truly appreciate all of you who’ve kudo’d and commented on this story. It’s been fun to write and thanks again to SainTalia for the prompt ✌️💕


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